


Dancing, With Dragons

by Serenitys_Lady



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Dragons, F/M, Memories, Romance, Sequel, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 03:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 77,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15428478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenitys_Lady/pseuds/Serenitys_Lady
Summary: The Doctor receives a distress signal and discovers someone he thought was lost....isn't.  And....Here Thar Be DRAGONS!





	1. Pendragora

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Doctor graciously comes to play sometimes. I can never get him to stay, more’s the pity.
> 
> A/N 1: This is a sequel to Steps in Time. You really should read that before continuing.
> 
> A/N 2: The concept of flying dragons with humanoid riders was inspired by the wonderful “Dragonriders of Pern” books by the brilliant Anne McCaffrey. If you like a little bit of science fiction thrown into your fantasy, they are a delicious read.

Donna Noble stood in from of the open TARDIS doors, looking out at the alien landscape.  Her arms were crossed and there was a frown on her face.  “Nope,” she said, irritated.  “Definitely not the beach.”  She turned around to glare at the Time Lord pacing around the console.

   
  
“I  _know_  I put in the right coordinates,” he said, bewildered.  “You watched me.  Britarius Majora.  Diamond sand.  Triple sunsets.”  He stood rubbing the back of his neck.

   
  
Donna walked over to him at the console.  “So where  _are_  we, then?” she asked.

   
  
He scowled and slipped his glasses on, peering intently at the monitor.  “Not exactly sure.  I  _think_  it’s Pendragora.  A small planet in the constellation of Draco.  But that’s clear across the galaxy from where I intended.”  He picked up the small rubber mallet and began to thump the console smartly in several places.  “Why.  Can’t.  You.  Behave?”

 

  
“Oi!  Spaceman!” Donna cried out, grabbing his hand in mid-strike.  “Stop whacking her with a hammer!”  She took the mallet out of his grasp and threw it on the jumpseat.  “Have you ever tried asking nicely?”  She tilted her head up and looked at the ceiling.  “So, love.  Can you tell us why we’re here instead of the beach he promised me?”

 

  
The TARDIS sang a lovely but mournful tune.

 

  
The Doctor stood, listening intently as his ship communicated her concerns through their psychic bond.  He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.  Turning to his companion, he began.  “I was right.  This  _is_  Pendragora.  The Old Girl tells me there is some sort of temporal anomaly, an imbalance in the planet’s eco-systems.  I’m sorry, Donna.  I know I promised a beach, but I really think I should check this out.”

 

  
Donna looked at him, sternly, for a few seconds.  “ _Temporal anomaly_ ,” she sniffed.  “That’s Time-Lord-speak for ‘We’re probably going to be chased by a bunch of angry aliens’.  In that case,” she smirked, “I’m gonna change.  I don’t fancy running for my life in these sandals.”

 

  
He grinned and pulled her into a tight hug.  “That’s my Donna!”

 

  
“Geroff!”  She squirmed out of his embrace.  “I’ll be back in a tick.   _Don’t_  leave without me.  You do and I swear, I’ll have her lock you out!   **Again**!!”  She chuckled as she made her way down the hall.

 

  
The Doctor grinned as he watched her leave.  She amazed him sometimes.  Donna had adapted very quickly to the uncertainties of life with a Time Lord.  She never grumbled (well, not  _seriously_  anyway) about the abrupt changes of plan.  She was a more than capable assistant (although he knew better than to call her that!). 

 

  
But what warmed his hearts especially was the way she was truly interested in the various entities they encountered in their travels, and cared a great deal about the injustices and suffering they sometimes had to contend with.  And she seemed determined to take care of  _him_ , or at least make sure he took care of himself.

 

  
He chuckled at the thought of the vast amounts of food she prepared for them, not that he was complaining.  Donna was a fantastic cook, and, as she often said pointedly, he had the appetite of a teenage human boy.  Still, it was the easy nature of their companionship that delighted him to no end.

 

  
He was still scanning the planet to determine what caused his ship to divert them, when said companion returned.  Ever practical, Donna had changed into comfortable pants, sturdy boots and a knit jumper.  She was in the process of pulling up her long ginger hair into an elastic to keep it out of the way.  She joined him at the monitor and said, “So, what’s up with this planet?”

 

  
The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck as he checked the read-out.  “It’s all very vague.  There’s definitely a problem with the eco-system.  But something else drew us here, and I can’t figure out exactly what.  It’s almost like we were summoned!”

 

  
“Well,” Donna said.  “What are we waiting for?  Let’s get this thing sorted.  You owe me a beach!”  She grabbed her jacket from the coat stand and walked to the doors, the Doctor following, bemused.

 

  
They stood outside the open TARDIS doors, surveying the landscape.  They were standing at the edge of a stand of trees on top of a small hillock, surrounded by lush, blue-green grass dotted with orange and purple flowers.  After locking the ship and setting up the perception filter, the Doctor automatically reached out and took Donna’s hand, and they began to walk down the hill. 

 

  
“Tell me what you know about Pendragora.  What do you think we’re walking into?” Donna asked.

 

  
He didn’t answer for a few minutes.  Finally, he began.  “I’ve actually never been here before.  I’ve only heard stories.”  He talked as they walked.  “Pendragora was a an insignificant little rock until about four hundred Earth years ago.  Then it suddenly caught the attention of the rest of the galaxy.”

 

  
“Really?” Donna asked.  “How does that happen?”

 

  
“I’m not exactly sure.  All I know is that, about that time, a ship carrying an inter-galactic expedition noticed unusual heat signatures coming from the planet, and discovered a thriving population that no one had realized was there.  They were completely isolated, had no contact off-world.  It was really rather strange.  Since then, they have been doing a booming trade in agricultural products, fruits and vegetables and the like.  They produce an amazing marmalade, I’ve heard.”

 

  
They had been travelling for a while, and the terrain gradually changed from rolling hills to taller mountains and deeper valleys.  As they ventured down one of these valleys, Donna noticed something odd about the grass they were walking upon.  “Doctor?” she asked, stopping him.  “Look at that.”  She pointed to an area of discoloured vegetation.

 

  
He immediately dropped to his knees and began to sniff the ground.  “The grass here is giving off a strange chemical by-product.”  He plucked a few blades, put on his glasses, and stared at them intently, before putting one on the tip of his tongue.  Donna cringed every time he did something like that, but by this time, she had learned that, if the silly sod hadn’t poisoned himself by now, he probably knew what he was doing, and she no longer protested.  Not that it would have done any good if she had.

 

  
“Yes,” he continued.  “There is definitely something wrong, but what?”  He took of his glasses and shoved them into his pocket.  “We’d best find a city or village, ask a few natives if there’s been any unusual activity recently.”

 

  
At that moment, a sound like the scream of a large bird of prey rent the air.  Donna whipped around and stared at the Doctor.  “What the bloody hell was  _that_?!” she exclaimed.

 

  
He gave her a lopsided grin.  “That?” he asked innocently.  “I believe that was a dragon.  Did I mention the dragons?”

 

  
“Dragons?” she scoffed.  “You’re having me on, right?”  He just stood, shaking his head and grinning like a loon.  She stormed over to him and demanded, “What do you mean, dragons?  Like, fairy tale, giant lizards with bat wings, that breath fire,  ** _dragons_**?”

 

  
“Not certain about the breathing fire part, but yeah.  Dragons.  Vermis Ales.  The Wingéd Worm.”

 

  
Narrowing her eyes, she glared at him.  “So help me, Time Boy, if you’re teasing me, I’ll …”

 

  
Another raucous cry stopped her in mid rant.  This one was much louder and much closer, and, as Donna and the Doctor watched, three gigantic reptiles appeared in the sky over the crest of the nearest peak.  Their bodies gleamed in the sunlight, shades of green and gold and blue, their wings gracefully moving in the air.

 

  
Donna edged her way to stand behind the Doctor, awed and a little fearful.  He reached over and took one of her hands, squeezing it reassuringly.  He  _did_ , however, lean back and whisper, “Told ya.”  The fact that she didn’t smack him was a clear indication of her discomfiture.

 

  
The dragons set down in a clearing several metres away, the largest in the front, two smaller ones flanking either side.  Each one had a rider, sitting in a saddle harnessed to the base of the beast’s neck, forward of its wings.  The lead rider unstrapped himself, nimbly walked down his dragon’s outstretched flank, and strode purposefully toward the two. 

 

  
The Doctor stepped squarely in front of Donna, shielding her from the newcomer.  The rider was distinctly humanoid, surprisingly so, he thought.  Clad in leather pants, jacket and boots, and what looked like a breastplate made from large scales, the man was above average human height.  As he approached them, he removed the leather helmet and goggles that enveloped his face, revealing a pair of the most astonishingly bright green eyes and a crown of dark copper curls, eliciting a gasp from Donna and a whispered ‘What?’ from the Doctor.

 

  
The man stopped a few metres away and stood straight and tall.  “I am Lysarion, Captain of the Guardians of the Sky, and rider of Lyrioth.”

 

  
“I’m the Doctor…”

 

  
“We are well aware of who you are, Time Lord,” Lysarion interrupted.  “We have been sent to bring you to The Citadel.  The Matromna requires your presence.”

 

  
Donna huddled closer to the Doctor and whispered, “Doctor?  What’s going on?  How do they know you?  What is this ‘Matromna’?”

 

  
He whispered in reply, “I don’t know.  I guess we’d better go along and find out.”  He turned to the tall man and saw, “Right then.  Can’t keep the Matromna waiting.  You lead and we’ll follow!”

 

  
Lysarion put out a hand to stop him.  “Korioth and Serioth have agreed to carry you and your lady to the Citadel.  You will ride with Korsarion and Setarion.”  He motioned to the other two riders to join him.

 

  
Donna stepped around the Doctor and faced Lysarion.  “What do you mean ‘carry’, mate?”  The Captain stared back at her as one of the other riders walked up and attempted to take her arm.  She pulled back quickly and, as the implication of his statement became clear, said emphatically, “Oh, no!  If you think I’m getting up on one of those … _beasts_ , think again.  I’m keeping my feet solidly on the ground, thank you very much.”

 

  
“Your lady has the fire of a dragon inside her,” Lysarion told the Doctor, as he tried to hold in a smile at Donna’s words.  “The Matromna will be most amused.”

 

  
She snarled at him.  “I’m not ‘his lady’.  I’m not  _anybody’s_  lady.  I’m just Donna from Chiswick, and you’d better get that straight, Sunshine!”

 

  
The Doctor knew that her bluster was mostly a defence mechanism to hide her anxiety at the prospect of riding the dragon.  He put his hands on her shoulders and looked deeply into her eyes.  “Donna,” he began softly.  “I know this is a little scary, but they’ve been travelling this way for hundreds of years.  They will keep you safe.  I promise.”  He grinned at her.  “Just pretend you’re in that ‘Harry Potter’ movie, the one with the Thestrals.”

 

  
Donna glared back at him.  After a minute or two, she relaxed a bit and whispered to him, “Okay.  But I swear to you.  If I fall off and die, I  _will_  come back and haunt you, Spaceman.  Count on it!”

 

  
The Doctor grinned and squeezed her shoulders to reassure her, and the two of them turned back to the dragon riders.  He nodded to Lysarion, who gestured to Korsarion, who then approached Donna and bowed respectfully.  Straightening, he held out his hand.  “Come, miss,” he said, his voice a soft lilt.  “This is Korioth.  He’s as gentle as a kitten and has the smoothest glide in the Volery.  There’s nothing to fear.”

 

  
Donna warily stepped up to the beast, who dipped his enormous head until it was on a level with her.  She tensed, but immediately relaxed when she gazed into the depths of the topaz-coloured eyes.  She saw an intelligence, an awareness, she was not expecting, along with something that could have been concern.  Prompted by Korsarion, she put out her hand, palm downward, and the dragon slowly stretched out his neck and gently bumped his head against it.

 

  
Donna gasped and cautiously moved a finger across the top of Korioth’s head.  She felt him press upwards into her hand, and began to giggle.  “Is he  _purring_?” she asked Korsarion.

 

  
The rider frowned and replied, “Actually, it’s called ‘thrumming’.  And he normally doesn’t do that.  Not with strangers, anyway.”  Korsarion put his hand on Korioth’s neck, stroked him, and smiled broadly.  “He’s quite taken with you, miss.  Says you’ve a kind heart and a tenacious spirit.  He’s honoured to be your escort.  He’ll take good care of you.”

 

  
Donna blushed and gently ran her fingers over the scaled head.  The dragon thrummed loudly, and she was startled when she felt a slight tingle, not in her hand, but in her mind.  It was the merest touch, a whisper, and it was gone before she fully realized it.  She shook her head, and shrugged it off as nervousness.  She smiled at Korsarion and said, “Please tell Korioth that I am grateful for his kindness.”

 

  
“Oh, he knows, miss.”  The young rider took her hand and assisted her in climbing up the dragon’s flank, assuring her that it was not harming the animal.  He opened the small crate attached behind the saddle and removed a helmet and goggles, handing them to Donna.  He then mounted the saddle and helped her on, positioning her in front of him and adjusting the harness to accommodate both riders.  Finally, he reached back into the crate and produced a heavy blanket.  He covered her lap and secured it tightly by the attached clasps.

 

  
Meanwhile, the Doctor had been going through the same process with Setarion.  He now sat comfortably atop Serioth, grinning like a child with a new toy, and waving jauntily at Donna.  At a signal of readiness from the two younger riders, Lysarion quickly mounted Lyrioth, and the three dragons took wing.  The Doctor thought he heard a squeal from Donna, which quickly turned into delighted laughter.

 

  
They flew in a ‘V’ formation, with Lyrioth in front, with Serioth and Korioth behind.  They soared over vast areas of farmland and orchards, the countryside dotted with small villages and larger towns, with blue-green rivers and lakes shimmering in the sun.  They continued westward, and in the distance, they saw a large city, gleaming in the fading light.

 

  
As they grew closer, the Doctor was able to make out tall spires and walls of stone.  There was something oddly familiar about the sight, something that niggled at his mind.  As they approached, the dragons circled around, and the Doctor was startled to see that the city was surrounded by what looked like a glass dome.  He suddenly recalled that Lysarion had called this place “The Citadel”, and that name weighed heavily on him.  They circled the city several times, each pass bringing them lower.

 

  
Finally, the dragons landed with a soft  _thump_  in an area near the front gates of the city .  The younger riders quickly unstrapped and unharnessed their passengers, and assisted them in dismounting from the saddles.  The Doctor nimbly leapt down from Setarion’s back, while Korsarion guided Donna to gracefully descend from Korioth.  She turned to the dragon, bowed courteously and thanked him, brushing her fingertips across his forehead, once again feeling a momentary tingle.  Korioth dipped his massive head in response and thrummed loudly.  She then approached the young rider and placed a light kiss on his cheek.  He blushed furiously.

 

  
The Doctor stood silently, staring at the great city before him.  What he had seen as a glass dome was actually a series of arches that gave the impression of encapsulating the buildings and grounds.  He was still troubled by the first impression he had of what was obviously the seat of government of this planet, and probably where this mysterious Matromna would be found.

 

  
Lysarion stored his helmet and goggles in the storage chest and, after a gentle touch and a soft word to Lyrioth, he turned to the two visitors and said, “If you would follow me please.”  He began walking toward the largest building in the city.  They approached two large doors made of a translucent stone, like alabaster, which were carved with intricate shapes and designs.  The doors were guarded by two young people in livery and, as Lysarion approached, they stood straighter to attention.  A tall, older man with the same startling eyes and copper hair, wearing a sash of deep gold, walked over and addressed him, with a slight bow and a crossing of one arm across his chest in salute.  “Captain.  How fare you?”

 

  
The Captain returned the salute.  “All is well, Persarel.  I have brought the visitors.  Is she about?”

 

  
“Aye.  She’s in the solarium,” Persarel answered.  He looked over at the Doctor and Donna, and smiled slightly.  “She’ll be surprised, that’s a certainty.”

 

  
Lysarion smiled in return.  “As rare an occasion as that is, I will enjoy it.”  The older man opened the door and motioned them to enter.

 

  
As they continued down the main corridor, Donna moved closer to the Doctor and whispered, “Is it my imagination, or have we stumbled onto the Planet of the Gingers?”

 

  
“There is something very strange about this,” he replied, as he eyed those they passed, observing an inordinate number with hair colour that ranged from a dark strawberry blonde to deep auburn.  “This just isn’t natural!” he exclaimed quietly.  Seeing Donna’s scowl, he quickly added, “Not that there is anything wrong with being a ginger.  I happen to like your hair.  A lot.  It’s just, I’ve never seen so many of them on one planet!”

 

  
Before Donna could respond to both his compliment and his observation, Lysarion stopped in front of what was obviously the solarium.  The room was made entirely of glass, and they could see into it easily, the rays of the slowly setting sun lighting it brightly.  The Captain turned to them and said, “Please wait here,” and entered the solarium.  They lost sight of him as he strode through an area of lush green vegetation.  He returned a short while later and ushered them in.

 

  
“The Matromna bids you to join her,” he told them.  He ushered them in and walked ahead of them, holding aside what might have been a variation of palm fronds.  The Doctor and Donna slowly and warily stepped through the opening and came upon an open area.  A fountain glittered to their right, water falling and making a pleasant tinkling sound.  A low table and a cushioned settee and chairs occupied a space to the left, along with a sideboard that had been pressed into service for use as a potting bench.

 

  
Beside the sideboard, a woman stood with her back to the visitors.  She was dressed in a dark green skirt made from a coarsely woven fabric that fell to mid-calf.  She wore a long-sleeved top, similar to a jumper, but of an iridescent, tight knit, that shifted in colour with every slight move.  The sleeves were pushed up to the elbows and her feet were bare.  Her copper hair was pulled back into a plait, and ribbons of green and gold were braided into it.  Her hands moved gracefully as she went about the task of transferring cuttings of some type of flowering plant from a flat growing board to individual containers.

 

  
Lysarion, bowing, spoke to her softly.  “My lady, the Time Lord is here.”

 

  
Dusting off her hands on her a towel at her waist, the woman turned to greet the newcomers.  When she faced them completely, the Doctor gasped and his eyes grew as wide as saucers.  A panoply of emotions crossed his face and, when he was finally able to find his voice, he whispered a single, strangled word.  “ ** _Kyla?_** ”

 


	2. Encountering the Past

The Doctor stood, his mouth open, staring at the woman, in shock.  Every impulse in his body screamed at him to run to her and envelop her in a tight embrace.  The more practical and, frankly, more suspicious aspect of his Time Lord nature implored him to be cautious.  He didn’t move.  He remained totally still, barely breathing.

 

He looked her over carefully, taking in every detail.  Her copper hair was a little faded, and liberally shot with silver.  Her face was lined, more from character than age, especially around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth.  She smiled sweetly and shook her head slowly.

 

“So,” she began.  “Are ya goin’ ta say somethin’ or are ya just goin’ ta stand there gapin’ at me?”  Her soft voice had a distinct lilt to it, and more than a little touch of amusement.

 

  
The Doctor closed his mouth and swallowed.  That phrase echoed in his memory and he felt an ache in his soul.  Taking a deep breath but still not moving any closer, he said, “Is it really you, Kyla?”

 

  
“Aye, it’s really me.”  She walked toward him, her bare feet treading lightly on the tiled floor.

 

  
He tensed as she approached.  “How?” he asked quietly.  “How is it possible?”  His voice caught in this throat.  “I thought you were dead,” he whispered.

 

  
She put her hand on his arm.  Involuntarily, he flinched at her touch.  “It’s a long story.  And I’ll tell ya all about it.  I promise.  But right now, you’re being an inconsiderate sod.”  Looking past him, she smiled at Donna, who the Doctor, in his confusion and shock, had forgotten all about. 

 

  
Stepping toward the other woman, Kyla said, “I am Kylarion.  Welcome to Pendragora.”

 

  
Donna was not sure exactly how to react.  “You’re the Matromna,” she blurted out.

 

  
Kyla smiled.  “That’s what they call me.  And you are?”

 

  
Donna dipped into a deep curtsey.  “Donna Noble, of Earth, your Grace.”

 

  
Kyla laughed and touched her upper arm.  “None of that nonsense,” she said, helping Donna to her feet.  “I get enough of that from the rest of them.”  She looked over at Lysarion and her eyes twinkled.  “I’m just Kyla.”  She led her over to the settee and sat her down, the Doctor following, still wary.

 

  
Before she could continue, the official they saw at the front doors earlier, strode purposefully into the solarium.  “Matromna,” he began, bowing deeply.  “Begging your pardon.”

 

  
Kyla sighed.  “What is it, Persarel?  I am entertaining guests.”

 

  
The older man eyed the two sitting with his sovereign, then bent down and whispered into her ear.  When he had finished, she looked up at him, rolled her eyes, and sighed again heavily.  Turning to the Doctor, she said, wistfully, “It appears that my esteemed Council of Governors has a crisis that only I can resolve.  I am so sorry, but our reunion will have to be delayed a while.”  To Persarel, she said, “Tell them I’ll be there shortly.”  She waved him off and he, with another bow, retreated quickly.

 

  
She called out to the captain, who had been quietly standing at the far side of the room.  “Lysa.”

 

  
He hurried over to her and fell to one knee.  “My lady.”

 

  
Kyla laughed.  “My great-great grandson thinks he can impress the ladies with his formality.”  She winked at Donna and ruffled his copper curls.  “Lysa, take the Time Lord and Miss Noble to the guest quarters and see that they are comfortable.  We’ll have supper in my chambers after I’ve dealt with the Council.  Tell Brillaria.  She’ll know what to do.”

 

  
Standing, she took the Doctor’s hand and helped him up.  Looking up at him, she said, with deep sincerity, “I know this has been a shock.  And I promise.  We will talk very soon.”  Squeezing his hand, she leaned closer to him and whispered, “I’m so glad ya came.  I’ve missed ya, Theta.”  Slipping her feet into a pair of soft shoes next to the settee, she gracefully made her exit.

 

  
The Doctor stared at the empty space where Kyla had stood.  Donna wasn’t sure exactly what had just happened, but she instinctively knew that it was something very unusual, and that it was somehow intensely personal to the Doctor.  She was also quite certain that, if he ran true to form, he would keep everything bottled up inside.  She decided to keep quiet for now, to respect his privacy while in public, but as soon as they were behind closed doors, she was determined to get to the bottom of things.

 

  
Lysarion was equally aware of the strained atmosphere and wisely chose to ignore it.  He walked over to the Doctor and Donna.  “Sir.  Miss.  Please come with me.  The guest lodgings are not far.”  He led them out of the solarium and the main building by a different, side entrance.  They walked out into a wide centre courtyard. 

 

  
Donna engaged the Captain in conversation, and he explained that this section of the Citadel was devoted primarily to administration of governmental and industrial concerns.  As they walked, she saw a variety of people crossing from place to place: dragon riders in their leathers; officials like Persarel, with decorative sashes in various colours draped diagonally across their tunics; service personnel in the livery of their various occupations.  She was surprised at the amount and lushness of the vegetation that the civic centre contained.  She glanced behind her a time or two to check on the Doctor.  He followed them in brooding silence, his face set and his eyes glowering.

 

  
After a short walk, the three came to a section of the city that was clearly more residential than business oriented.  Lysarion escorted them to what looked like a moderate sized hotel.  As they entered the reception area, a young woman with dark brown hair and clear blue eyes approached them. 

 

  
“I’m Brillaria,” she announced.  Seeing the look of surprise on the Captain’s face, she chuckled and explained, “She already sent word to expect you, Lysa.  You know how she is.  I’ll take it from here.  Go on.  You know how Lorioth gets when you’re gone too long.”

 

  
The rider looked both annoyed and relieved.  Turning to the Doctor and Donna, he bowed and said, “Sir.  Miss Noble.  May you be well.”

 

  
Donna dipped her head in response.  “Thank you, Captain.  Please tell Korsarion and Setarion that we are grateful for their assistance.  Aren’t we, Doctor?” she said, as she jabbed him sharply with an elbow.

 

  
That startled him out of his deep thoughts and he stared at her.  “What?” he said, annoyed.  She raised her eyebrows and jerked  
her head slightly toward the rider.  “Oh!  Ah.  Yes, thank you for your, erm, uh, well, thank you.”  He turned away, distracted.  Donna gave Lysarion a apologetic look.  He nodded in acknowledgement and strode away with a smile.

 

  
Brillaria had gone over to the reception desk, trying to give them privacy.  She returned with a small box and said to Donna, “You’ve been given the Dragora Suite.”  She began to usher them down the corridor to the lifts.  “It’s on the top floor, so the view is exquisite.”  The doors opened and the three stepped in.  As they silently glided upward, she continued.  “The sitting room has a balcony that faces Dragons Crest.  If you rise at dawn, you can watch the Volery take flight.  It is an amazing thing, not to be missed!”

 

  
The lift stopped and they all stepped out.  The Dragora Suite occupied the entire floor, which was at the top of one of the spires of the guest lodgings.  Brillaria walked over to the large wooden double doors, plugged the small box into a slot on the touch screen and placed her palm on the screen, tapping a few buttons on the box with her other hand.  Turning to the Doctor and Donna, she explained, “If each of you will please put your hand here, I’ll program the screen-lock with your biological signatures.  Then you’ll be able to come and go as you please.”

 

  
Donna walked up first.  The box lit up as soon as she touched it, and she felt a slight vibration, similar to what she felt the first time she held the sonic screwdriver for the Doctor while he was making adjustments to the TARDIS console.  When she was scanned, she grabbed his hand and placed it on the machine.

 

  
He started out of his thoughts, and looked down.  “Oh!” he said, with a touch of excitement in his voice.  “Sonic resonance identification.  Rather brilliant, that.”  He looked the box over for a few seconds and handed it back to Brillaria, staring at her strangely, as if he couldn’t remember seeing her before.  Donna rolled her eyes and said to the girl,  “Don’t mind him.  Absent minded professor and all that.”

 

  
Brillaria laughed.  “That’s alright.  We get all kinds here.  The academics are the worst,” she said, with a knowing smile.  “Now then.  Let’s try this out.  Put your hand on the screen.”  Donna stepped up to the door and place her hand as instructed.  The carved wooden doors quietly glided open, to reveal a large sitting room.  The wall opposite them was made entirely of glass and reflected the last of the sunset, bathing the room in a soft orange-lavender glow.

 

  
They entered the suite and Brillaria proceeded to point out all the amenities.  There were two bedrooms, one on each side of the sitting room, a small bar/dining area, and the aforementioned balcony.  Donna followed her, listening with interest as the young woman showed her how to change the lighting, open and close the curtains on the picture window, and which buttons to push for room service or the front desk. 

 

  
While the two women were chatting cordially, Donna glanced over at the Doctor.  Ordinarily, he would have been prancing around the room, investigating all the gadgets, and checking every nook and cranny of his new environment.  This time, however, he just stood in the centre of the sitting room, staring at nothing.  Concerned by his silence and obvious withdrawal, she strengthened her resolve to get to the bottom of whatever this was.

 

  
Brillaria completed her tour and Donna walked her to the door, thanking her profusely for all her help.  When the doors had closed and were secured against interruption, Donna turned back to the Doctor, who hadn’t moved or even, she suspected, breathed.  After calling his name several time, she strode purposefully over to him and took his face in her hands, drawing him directly into her line of sight.

 

  
“Oi!  Spaceman!” she said.

 

  
It was more the touch of her hands on his face than the actual sound of her voice that brought the Doctor back to conscious awareness.  He looked down at her anxious face, and she saw his eyes clear and focus on her.  She smiled and whispered, “There you are, Doctor.”  She stroked his cheek lightly with one hand and, with the other, led him over to the settee.

 

  
Giving him a look that clearly said  _‘Don’t even think about moving’_ , she walked over to the bar and poured a tall glass of clear water from the carafe, and quickly returned to his side.  She placed the glass within his reach on the table in front of the settee and sat down, angling herself so she was facing him squarely. 

 

  
“Listen, Time Boy,” she began slowly.  “I’m not exactly sure what’s happening here.  I know you’ve had a shock, and you’re confused and upset.”  She laid a hand on his knee.  “But,” she continued,  “the TARDIS sent us here for a reason.  And I have a suspicion that all of this, what _ever_  it is, is related.  I can’t to help you figure it out unless I know what’s going on.”  She stared him straight in the eye.  “Please, Doctor,” she implored.  “Tell me.  Who is that woman, and what is she to you?”


	3. Kyla

The Doctor took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  He saw the depths of Donna’s concern and it touched him in a way that surprised him.  “That’s my Donna,” he said, almost to himself, and a small smile began to spread across his face.  “Always looking out for me, always ready to do whatever needs to be done.”  He took her hand from his knee and squeezed it lightly.  “You’re a right marvel, you are.”

 

 

Donna blushed, as she usually did whenever he complimented her.  Pulling back her hand, she quickly went on the offensive.  “You’re not going to get out of it by sweet talking me, Time Boy!  Come on.  What the bloody hell is going on?!”

 

 

  
The Doctor smiled to himself, knowing full well she was trying to deflect any sort of praise he gave her.  That was one of the things that both pleased and irritated him.  She was selfless to a fault, caring and compassionate, always concerned about him and others.  But it infuriated him whenever she would demean herself or brush off any recognition of her value or accomplishments.  He tried, whenever possible, to get her to see just how brilliant she really was.

 

 

  
He could feel Donna staring at him, waiting for his response.  He knew he was stalling.  He owed it to her to be honest.  But he just wasn’t sure how to begin.  He reached over, picked up the glass of water, and took a long draught.  Then he turned to her and started to talk.

 

 

  
“Kyla...Kylarion...was someone I knew a long time ago.”

 

  
“Was she a companion?  Did she travel with you like I am?”

 

  
He smiled at that thought, but it quickly faded.  “No.  It was a lot longer ago than that.”  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I knew her when I was a boy.  A cadet at the Academy.”  He paused.  “On Gallifrey.”

 

 

  
Donna knew little of the Doctor’s past, but he had told her a bit about his home planet and its destruction.  He never talked about the Academy, however.  At this revelation, she was stunned.  “She’s a  _Time Lady_?!” she asked.

 

 

  
“No.  Oh no,” he responded quickly.  “Not all Gallifreyans were Time Lords.  In fact, we were actually the minority.  Funny, that,” he mused.  “I guess most ruling classes  _are_  the minority.”  He sighed.  “Kyla’s family was in the agricultural class.  Her father managed the orchards and vineyards on my parents’ estate.  I met her while on break from my studies, when I was home for a few months before the next term began.”

 

 

He sat back on the settee, the memories coming back to him.  Donna was aware how difficult it was for him to share anything personal, so she just sat quietly and listened, although made a mental note to ask him at some future time about that estate.

 

 

“I wasn’t the Doctor then.  I called myself Theta Sigma.  It was not a good time for me.  I hated the Academy.  I hated my fellow cadets, my teachers.  I was uncomfortable with my family and their expectations.  I just wanted to run away.  So I did.  Late one night, I got up, put on an old suit of clothes, crept out of the villa, and ran.  I really didn’t have a destination in mind.  I just wanted to get away from everything familiar.  I finally slowed down when I reached the orchards.  That’s where I met Kyla.”

 

 

He took another drink and went on.  “We would meet at night in the orchard and just talk.  She was the first and only person I could be myself with.  She was ... I ... We were ...”  He stumbled over his words.  As much as he wanted to be honest with Donna, he couldn’t bring himself to disclose the full details of their relationship.

 

 

Donna reached out and held his hand.  “You were close,” she said simply.

 

 

The Doctor smiled a little.  Trust Donna to make things easier for him.  He squeezed her hand in gratitude.  “Yeah.  We were close.”

 

 

  
“What happened?”

 

 

  
He sighed.  “I went back to the Academy at the end of break.  The only thing that kept me going was the idea of seeing her again in a few months.”  He stopped again, closed his eyes for a moment, and then went on.  “When I got back, I found that she had gotten married to a ship captain and was gone.”  Donna gasped involuntarily, which touched his hearts.  “I never saw her again,” he said sadly.

 

 

  
Donna threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly to her.  “Oh, Spaceman.  I am so sorry.”  They sat that way for a short while, the Doctor grateful for the comfort and support he always got from her.  Finally, she disentangled herself from him and said, “But this is great.  You’ve found your friend again.  Why were you acting so moody and suspicious?”

 

 

  
He sat back and rubbed the back of his neck, as he always did when he was confused or upset.  “That’s the thing, Donna.  In the first place, the last time I saw her was over six hundred years ago.  Other Gallifreyans don’t have the same lifespan as Time Lords do.  Even with the use of stasis in ship travel, she shouldn’t still be alive.  And there’s something else.”

 

 

  
She waited for him to continue, as he closed his eyes again, the memory he was reliving obviously an extremely painful one.

 

 

  
“About five hundred years ago, there was a report.  The transport ship that Kyla was on was reported lost, with all hands.  Nothing was found but a bit of debris.  The crew were declared dead and memorial services were held.”  He rubbed a hand over his face.  “And now I find her here.  On the opposite side of the galaxy.  It makes no sense.”   _‘And it hurts’,_ he thought, but didn’t say out loud.

 

 

  
Donna had watched him carefully as his tale unfolded.  He was the most expressive person she had ever met, but on the rare occasions when he talked about anything personal, he had one of the best poker faces in the universe.  She was therefore surprised (and pleased, if she were honest) that he was being so open about his past and not hiding his obvious emotion from her. 

 

 

The Doctor was starting to become more agitated, and stood up suddenly and began to pace.  Donna followed him and put a restraining hand on his shoulder.  “Doctor,” she said softly.  “There’s no use in getting all bothered.  Kyla told you that she’d explain it all to you.  There’s not much you can do until then.”

 

 

  
He looked down at his companion and breathed a deep sigh.  “You’re right.”

 

 

  
“I usually am,” she smirked.  “You’re just now noticing?”

 

 

  
“The cheek!” he retorted.  The light banter seemed to shake him out of his blue funk.  Picking up his now empty glass, he strode over to the bar area.  “Look, Donna!” he exclaimed.  “Complimentary nibbles!”  He nabbed a packet of some sort of crunchies and grinned.

 

 

  
A while later, the two were standing on the balcony, looking at the night sky.  The Doctor was pointing out constellations, some of which Donna recognized, but many of which were completely foreign to her.  She loved it when he shared this part of his life with her.  More than the adventures, more than the meeting of new people and species, it was being among the stars that delighted her.   _“Must be all those hours up the hill with Gramps,’_  she thought.

 

 

  
The sound of a carillon broke into her thoughts.  They turned and walked into the sitting room, and the chime sounded again.  Donna realized it was the doorbell and quickly went to open the door.  A young man of about twenty in full livery of greens and gold stood there.  He bowed and explained, “The Matromna wishes you to dine with her in her chambers.  If you would please follow me.”

 

 

  
They exited the guest quarters, crossed the courtyard, and proceeded to a large villa at the east end of the city.  It stood away from the rest of the habitations, and was surrounded by an ornate wrought-iron fence.  In opposition to its fortified appearance, however, the gates to the villa stood wide open.  Donna noticed in passing that the design in the iron resembled those she had seen on the sticky notes pasted to the TARDIS’ console.

 

 

  
She was about to remark on this when they reached the front doors of the main building, which were also open and unguarded.  Their escort brought them to a large parlour with a roaring fire  and comfortable, overstuffed furniture.  Kyla stood near the fireplace.  She had changed into a gown of dark forest green with a belt of beaten copper disks and copper-coloured braiding at the wrist and neck.  He hair was pinned up in a cascade of curls that fell down her back.

 

 

  
“My lady?” the young man called out.

 

 

  
Kyla turned and smiled.  “Ah, Haldarel.  Come in, all of ya.”  She walked over to the Doctor and Donna.  The young attendant moved away to stand near the door.  “Before we go in to supper,” she said, addressing the Doctor, “I promised ya a talk.”  Turning to Donna, she began, “Maybe ya’d like to see the gardens?  I am especially proud of the  _Cymbidium_  orchids.  Haldarel will show ya.  His mother works in one of the hothouses.”

 

 

  
The Doctor stopped her by saying, bluntly, “Donna knows our past, Kyla.  We have no secrets.”

 

 

  
At that statement, Donna stifled a snort and thought  _‘Since when, Time Boy?’_   He reached out and took her hand in his, which startled Donna and caused Kyla’s eyebrows to raise.  “I’d rather she stayed, if that’s alright with you.”

 

 

  
Kyla smiled and took his other hand.  “Of course, it’s alright,” she replied, and guided them to where three armchairs faced the large fireplace.  She motioned to Haldarel, gave him a whispered instruction, and sat down.  He returned quickly with a tray, with a decanter and glasses made of a pale blue crystal, which were delicately etched with the same designs as the gates.  He placed it on the table to her right.  She thanked him and told him he was free for the evening.  He bowed deeply and left, closing the door as he did.

 

 

  
Kyla poured a light amber liquid into each glass and handed one to the Doctor and Donna.  “It’s a peach liqueur,” she explained as they took a tentative sip.  “It’s one of Pendragora’s chief exports.  The pear wine is more popular, but I remember how ya feel about pears,” she smirked at the Doctor, her eyes twinkling.  She turned to Donna and said, conspiratorially, “One night, he ate so many overripe pears, he made himself sick.  Swore he’d never touch another one ever again!”  She laughed at his expense.

 

 

  
“Kyla,” the Doctor said tersely.  “I don’t think this is the time for idle reminiscences.”

 

 

  
She sighed and put down her glass.  “I know.  I’m stalling.  I don’t really know where to start.”

 

 

  
“We were told the  _Wild Endeavour_  had been lost, destroyed.  There was nothing left, Kyla.  They sent rescues ships, probes, everything they could!”  He stared at her.  “Start there.”

 

 

  
She smiled ruefully and said, “Well, ya better make yourselves comfortable.  It’s a long story.”  She took another sip of her drink, sat back in her chair, and began.

 

 

  
“We were making a long run to a small planet that was being prepared for colonization, bringing equipment, seeds and plants, building materials, anything ya’d need for civilized living.  We had just passed the third moon of Xendribor when all our communications channels went dead, internal and external.  As we rounded the moon, we saw an enormous ion cloud, the densest one we’d ever seen.  We tried to scan it, to see how deep it was, whether we’d be able to fly through it or have to go around it.  That’s when the navigation system failed, along with the onboard computers.

 

 

  
“We were pretty much a sitting duck.  We thought if we could just get through the cloud, we could try to land somewhere and signal for help.  We harnessed down everything we could and braced for a rocky ride through the cloud.  The ship was tossed about like a child’s toy.  We lost the satellite arrays, one of the outboard shuttles, a lot of the heat shielding, and other bits and pieces.  This was no ordinary ion cloud, more of a storm.  And there was one last little surprise for us on the other side.”

 

 

  
She paused to sip more of her liqueur.  “We had managed to make it through the ion whatever-it-was without too much further damage.  But we weren’t out of trouble yet.  Turned out, the gases were obscuring a wormhole.  No one had ever charted a wormhole in that area.  The ship, at this point, was a floating storage container.  We had no navigation, no steering, no way of manoeuvring around or away from it.  We all just held on for dear life and prayed, as the wormhole drew us in.

 

 

  
“It could have been hours, it could have been days or weeks, but finally we came out the other.  Without our computer systems, we had no way of knowing where in the galaxy, or universe for that matter, we were.  It was about then that the engines started to go wonky on us and the ship started into a slow spiral.  So the decision was made to try and find somewhere to land, taking the chance that it could sustain humanoid life.”

 

 

  
She looked over at the Doctor, who was leaning forward in his chair, eyes wide and brow furrowed.  She could tell he was horrified at her story, so was rather surprised at his silence.  She smiled ruefully and continued.

 

 

  
“We knew it was probably suicide.  What were the odds of finding a compatible atmosphere?  Finally Torgothel, one of our engineers, found a core sampler in the building materials.  He rigged it using a medium-range radio transmitter/receiver, and we sent it to the surface of the nearest planet using the only probe we had that hadn’t been damaged or destroyed in the ion storm.  Rassilon favoured us that day.  The shot was true.  The probe landed and began to transmit rudimentary data.

 

 

  
“From what we could tell, the atmosphere and geology was unusually similar to the of Gallifrey, but with some differences, some additional minerals, a chemical or two in the air and soil.  We had no biologist, but we did have a ship’s doctor.  And from what he could tell, the planet was safe for us to land.  Our hope was that we would find a species that had some kind of technology to allow us to repair our ship and get us back home.”

 

 

  
Kyla closed her eyes and sighed, relieving the moment in her mind.  “You have no idea what it was like.  By this time, whatever it was that was destroying our systems had started to affect the engines.  Regarel, the captain, took control of the helm and, using just thrusters and boosters, managed to control the spiral and land us relatively safely on the surface.  He and I put on our environment suits and stepped out onto the planet.”

 

 

  
The Doctor couldn’t control himself any longer.  “What were you thinking, Kyla?  Why would you take such a risk?”

 

 

  
She stared at him and, with sadness in her eyes, she replied simply, “I couldn’t let my husband go out there by himself, now could I?”

 

 

  
The Doctor’s face went pale and he nodded his head.  “Right,” he said.  “I forgot.”  He slumped in his chair.  Donna reached over and put her hand on his arm.  His conscious mind barely registered her gesture, but his subconscious was grateful for her presence.

 

 

  
“Anyway,” Kyla went on.  “This tale is getting too long and too morbid.  Let’s just say that we found out quickly that we could breath the air and set out to find someone, some kind of habitation.  But we never did.  The planet was deserted, from what we could tell.  With no possibility of summoning help, we realized that our only option at this point was to try to make lives for ourselves here.  We had everything we needed to start up a colony in the hold of the ship.  So that’s what we did.

 

 

  
“There were thirty of us in the crew, twenty-five men and five women.  Needless to say, we had to make a few… _adjustments_ , shall we say, in the social structure.  Bloodlines and all that.”  She smirked a bit and winked at Donna, waiting to see the Doctor’s reaction.

 

 

  
He sat up and rubbed his earlobe as he thought over her statement.  Suddenly, he opened his mouth and stared at her for a second.  “ **NO!** ,” he blurted out, disbelief in his voice.  “Of course!  I should have seen it.”  He turned to Donna and explained, excitedly.  “Matromna.  _Mater Omnia_!  Mother of All!!”

 


	4. Of Time Lords and Dragons

At the sight of Donna’s shocked face, Kyla laughed, her voice ringing through the room.  “Well,” she said, “That’s a  _bit_  of an exaggeration.  There  _were_  five of us!  But my family had always tended toward multiple births, twins and triplets and the like.”

   
Donna spoke for the first time.  Without thinking, she blurted out, “Well, I guess that explains all the gingers!”  And promptly covered her mouth with her hand, blushing with embarrassment.  The Doctor grinned and patted her arm in support.

   
Kyla chuckled at her reaction.  “Aye, it seems I have rather  _persistent_  genes.”  She refilled her glass and continued her story.  “Anyway, when we set out to build our little colony, Reg, being the captain, was naturally chosen as the leader and I, as his wife, became the Matriarch, socially as well as physically.  I’m not really sure how the title came about.  I think Basmatharel, the ship’s doctor, came up with the Latin after my fourth set of twins.  It was meant as a bit of a tease, but somewhere along the line, it stuck and gradually got distorted.”

   
She sipped her liqueur and smiled softly at her memories.  “As I said, we had everything we needed to start a colony: building materials, seeds for planting, a fuel-powered generator.  We even discovered some cryo-frozen embryos of food animals.  It was hard going for a while, but we got things going and, after the first year, we were beginning to be self sustaining.  My experience working with my father on your estate came in quite handy, and the fields and vegetable gardens flourished.  One of our engineers had raised hounds for the ceremonial hunts back on Gallifrey, so he was able to work out the best ways to breed those animals we were able to salvage from the cryo, and how to interbreed with some of the native species.  So we built and grew and expanded.  Our children had children, and the crops and herds multiplied.”

 

A loud knock interrupted Kyla’s tale.  The door opened and a woman of apparent middle age with the predominant dark copper hair entered and strode over to her chair.  “Mother,” the woman said, with a touch of impatience.  “Dallaria is pitching a right fit in the kitchens.  She says, if you don’t come to table this instant, the meal will be ruined and she won’t be held responsible.”  She glanced over at the two sitting with her mother with a look of annoyance.

 

Kyla put down her glass and smiled indulgently at the woman.  Taking her hand, she turned and said, “Doctor, Donna.  This magnificent but impertinent thing is my youngest, Kataria.  Kat, meet the Time Lord and his companion, Donna Noble,” Kyla stated, proudly.

 

Kat had the look of someone who was not easily impressed.  She nodded in their general vicinity with a mumbled ‘ _Please to meet you’_ and then turned back to her mother.  “Really, Mother.  You know how she gets.”

 

Kyla said to her guests, “I think we’ll have to continue this conversation over supper.  I’ve learned that one should never, ever, upset the cook.”  She patted her daughter on the arm.  “Go tell Dalli that we’ll be in presently.  And make sure she understands that I do  _not_ want to be served in the formal dining room.”

 

Kataria groaned.  “She’ll not be happy about that,” she warned.

  
“Ya just tell her that the Matromna wishes it.  That’ll keep her quiet!  The sun room will do quite nicely, I think,” Kyla mused.  “Have them retract the shades over the dome.  I’d like to see the night sky.” 

 

Kataria bowed again to the Doctor and left, muttering to herself as she went.  Kyla smiled as she watched her walk away.  “My Kat tends to be a bit of a worrier, as you could probably tell.  But she’s a good girl and takes the best care of me.”

  
Again, Donna could not resist the urge.  “You said she was your youngest.  How many children  _do_  you have?”  The Doctor sat up straight, also very interested in her answer.

  
Kyla finished the last of her liqueur before responding.  Putting down the glass, she looked, not at the Doctor, but at Donna, with a twinkle in her eye.  “I have thirty sets of twins and fourteen triplets, with nine single births.  Kat is the last of the singles.”

  
Donna’s eyes grew wide and her mouth opened in astonishment.  “But, but, that’s....” she sputtered.  “You’ve had  _one hundred and eleven_  children?!?”

   
The Doctor let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, whistling softly.  “Well, it’s no wonder they call you the  _Mater Omnia_ , now is it?  But how is that possible?” he pondered.

   
Kyla stood up and replied simply, “I’ll explain it all.  Now, come.”  She gestured for them to follow her.  “It won’t do to keep Dalli waiting any longer.” Threading her arm through the Doctor’s, she led them out of the lounge and down a long hallway.

   
Donna watched with some amusement at the Doctor’s reaction to Kyla’s claiming his arm.  He had immediately looked back at Donna, almost as if he were apologising.  She winked at him and nodded encouragingly.

   
Kyla opened the last door on the right when they reached the end of the hallway and ushered them into what she had called the sun room.  At this hour, with the sunshades retracted, the dome overhead revealed the most glorious display of stars, bathing the room with the soft glow of moonlight.  A table and chairs had been placed in the centre of the room, and a plump but stern-looking woman waited, her arms crossed in front of her. 

   
Kyla released the Doctor and gestured to them toward the table.  She then walked over to the woman and placed her hands on her arms.  “Dalli, I’m so sorry we’ve kept ya waiting.  Ya know how I forget the time when I’m telling tales.”

   
Dallaria huffed a bit.  “My lady, I fear the meal is ruined.  I tried the best I could, but there is only so much a person can do under these circumstances.”

   
Donna, hearing this, went over to the cook and said sincerely, “I’m sure that’s not true, Mistress Dallaria.  From what I hear, you are a right marvel in the kitchen and nothing you prepared would be anything less than miraculous.”

   
The cook blushed at the words coming from the stranger before her.  Kyla was impressed at Donna’s consideration, and the Doctor smiled to himself, hearts bursting with pride for his friend.  She continued to chat quietly with the cook, who finally went back to the kitchen after shaking Donna’s hand vigorously.  Donna returned to her seat at table with Kyla and the Doctor.

   
Kyla sat at the head of the table, with the Doctor on her left and Donna on her right.  “Well, now,” she said, when Donna returned.  “I still have a bit to tell ya, so I’d best be getting to it.”  She paused as three young girls entered the room, each carrying a bowl of chilled cucumber soup.  After placing the bowls in front of them, they bowed to Kyla and retreated silently back to the kitchen.  As they ate, she continued her tale.

   
“I know ya have to be wondering why, after six hundred years, not only am I still alive, but not showing my advanced age.”

   
The Doctor nodded.  “I  _had_  noticed, but, being the gentleman that I am, refrained from commenting.”

   
Donna almost choked on her soup.  She looked at him, rolling her eyes, but said nothing.  He raised his eyebrows at her and smiled sheepishly.

   
Kyla noticed the interplay between the two and grinned to herself behind her serviette.  “Well,” she continued.  “We were working away at building up the colony.  After about fifty or sixty years, we began to notice the fact that none of us were aging.  So Basmatharel, our ship’s doctor, decided to take blood samples and compare them to our previous records, to see if he could find any changes or organic explanation.”

   
The Doctor cut in.  “But I thought you said you lost the computers and most of the technology in the crash.”

   
The young girls reappeared to take their soup bowls and deliver the main course.  Kyla explained to Donna, “I asked Dalli to prepare something in the traditional Gallifreyan style.  This is a simple dish using native tubers, vegetables and meat from what might be equivalent to porcine mammals from Earth.”

   
Donna looked at the plate in front of her, picked up her fork and took a bite.  She savoured the taste and then exclaimed, “It tastes like shepherd’s pie!  It’s really good, too.”  She stared at the Doctor sitting across from her.  “Well, that explains your obsession with shepherd’s pie!  Why didn’t you tell me it reminded you of home?  I would have made it more often.  Or at least not complained so much when you begged for it.”

   
He shook his head.  “I didn’t even make the connection.  Honestly, Donna.  It’s been a very long time since I had Gallifreyan food.  I just really like your shepherd’s pie!”  Donna made a mental note to look for a Gallifreyan cookbook in the TARDIS library.

   
Kyla laughed and said, “To answer your question, then.  Aye, our computers and all the data in them was either lost, corrupted or irretrievable.  However, Bas was rather unique person.  He had always had a deep mistrust of technology, so much so that he secretly kept separate, hard copy files on all of the crew.  He also had a collection of antique medical and scientific gadgets, microscopes and scalpels and the like.  So he was able to run comparisons between our files and the blood tests he conducted.”

   
Kyla gestured to the Doctor fill their glasses from the decanter of pomegranate wine, which was light and a curious blend of sweetness and tang that brought a smile to Donna’s face.  Kyla continued.  “What Bas found astonished everyone.  As you know, Time Lords have an additional set of chromosomes that other Gallifreyans lack.  At least that was what we were always taught.

   
“Bas discovered that this was not the case.  The chromosomes exist in  _all_  Gallifreyans, but are only viable in Time Lords.”  She turned to Donna.  “Think of it like an appendix.  It’s there but doesn’t really do anything.”  She sipped her wine and continued.  “Bas came to Reg and me with his findings.  It seemed that something, either in the ion cloud or here on the planet, had activated this chromosome set.”

   
“So you all became Time Lords?” Donna asked, noting the stunned look on the Doctor’s face.

   
Kyla shook her head slowly.  “No, not exactly.  Our life-spans were augmented tremendously, and we have the advanced healing abilities of the Time Lords.  But we never grew the second heart.  We can’t regenerate.  We just live a very long time.  We can die, and have.  Mostly due to accidents.”

   
A shadow of pain crossed her face.  The Doctor saw this and put his hand on hers.  “Reg?” he asked softly.

   
“Aye,” Kyla replied.  “About twenty years ago.  A mining accident.”  And that was all she said.  He squeezed her hand gently and leaned toward her, sympathizing without words, remembering his own losses.

   
The maids returned with a platter of cheeses and sliced fruit.  Donna spoke with them quietly to give the two Gallifreyans their private moment.  She regaled them with a story about the time, when she was eighteen, she took a job at a local cafe and lasted only one day.  They left the sun room with the empty dishes, giggling at her description of broken crockery, rude patrons, and the wrath of an upset ginger.

   
Donna turned back to find Kyla describing the varieties of the cheeses while the Doctor nibbled on an apple slice. Whatever intimacy they had shared had passed.  Kyla smiled at Donna and then sighed.  “I know you’re probably getting tired of hearing me talk, but there’s just a bit more ya need to know.”

   
She fingered a small pendant that was partially hidden beneath neckline of her gown.  It was in the form of a dragon, wings partially unfurled, its tail curled around an egg, wrought in a dark copper.  “The dragons,” she began.  “They are actually the most important part of the story.”

   
The Doctor sat up a little straighter.  “Yes,” he said quickly.  “I was going to ask you.  They  _are_  indigenous, right?”

   
“Aye, they are,” she replied.  “But we didn’t know about them for a long time.  It wasn’t too long after we found out about the “Time Lord gene”.”  She smiled, as the Doctor sniffed in reaction to the term.  “Late one night, I was having trouble sleeping.”  She chuckled at the memory.  “Reg was snoring away to beat the band, and I decided to take a walk.  It was early autumn, so the nights hadn’t turned cold yet.  I got dressed, grabbed a wrap, and started out.  I really didn’t have a destination in mind; I was just wandering.  As I did, something, I couldn’t really tell what, was urging me to go in a direction I hadn’t ever been.  It was like I was being pushed, but not physically.  Emotionally.  I know that sounds daft, but it’s what I felt at the time.

  
“After a while, I found myself at the base of some cliffs.  We have never explored out this far, and I had no idea why I was drawn there.  As I got closer, I found that the cliff face was riddled with small caves.  As I stood there, I got this overwhelming feeling, a pull, if you will, to go inside one of them.  Well, I always  _was_  a bit impetuous.”  She smiled at the Doctor, who responded in kind, with a knowing nod.

  
She continued.  “I hadn’t taken but a few steps when I heard what sounded like a baby crying.  It was faint, as if at a great distance, but the cave was not really that big.  As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I heard the cry again, but this time it was stronger.  And I realized something else.  The sound was not echoing off the stone walls.  I stopped and listened more closely, closing my eyes and really concentrating.  That’s when I knew.”

  
“Knew what?” Donna asked.  She looked over at the Doctor, and saw he had on his  _aha_  face.

  
“She was hearing the sound in her mind,” he explained.  Kyla nodded.  “Another gift of the “Time Lord gene”, I take it?”

  
“Aye,” she answered.  “I knew Time Lords had various forms of telepathy.  So I assumed I was hearing another Gallifreyan.  I thought someone had been hurt and crawled into this cave for shelter.  I stood still and tried to send out my thoughts, to locate the poor dear.  I heard a response clearly and turned in the direction it seemed to come from.  What I found was not at all what I expected.  Not more than five steps to the side, I found, sitting on a shelf of rock, a small copper-coloured lizard, about the size of a house cat.  She cried out again and this time, in my head, reverberated one word:  _Kylarath_.  And I understood that this was her name.  She had read my mind, imprinted on me, and named herself using a form of my name.”

  
The Doctor jumped in.  “Imprinting,” he explained quickly to Donna, “is a kind of intense bonding.”

 

“I pretty much got that, Time Boy,” she shot back at him.  She turned to Kyla and asked, “What was it like, hearing the little thing in your head?  Did she talk to you in words, or was it more like impressions?”

 

The Doctor spoke up in reply.  “Imprinting is usually done psychically, but sometimes, in extreme cases, the bonded pair can feel physically what the other feels.”

 

Donna reached across the table and smacked his arm smartly.  “Have  _you_  ever imprinted on a dragon?  No?  Well, then, Mr. I-Know-Everything, let the lady talk!”

 

Kyla stifled a grin at this exchange.  “It began as just a sound in my head, but the longer I stood there, the clearer the thoughts became.  It was as if she were learning our language from scanning my mind.  I reached over and picked her up, cradling her in my arms.  Oh, she crooned with such joy, and began to make the most wonderful rumbling in her throat.”

 

“Yes,” Donna cried.  “Korsarion told me it was called thrumming.  Korioth did that when we first met.”

 

"Did he now?” Kyla asked, looking at the ginger-haired woman thoughtfully.

 

“Yes.  They said it was unusual, but I’m sure it happens all the time,” Donna was quick to point out.

 

Kyla caught the Doctor’s brief expression of irritation at Donna’s words.  She filed that, along with many other little things, for future consideration.  She continued with her tale.  “I carried her back to the settlement and woke Reg.  Soon everyone was taking a trip out to the caves.  So many of them came back disappointed.  It seemed that the dragon chose its partner, not the other way around.  And the most amazing thing was, as the bond grew, so did the dragons!  Not all lizards imprinted, mind, but those that did began to slowly increase in size as the years went on.  It took about fifty years, but eventually, they all developed into the magnificent creatures we have today.  It took another hundred years before they fully attained flight.”

 

“Can we see her sometime?  Kylarath?” Donna asked shyly.

 

Kyla smiled and answered, “Of course.  She’s well advanced in years, so she doesn’t get around much.  But I’ll be happy to take you to meet her.”  She grew solemn.  “In fact, that’s why I sent for ya, Theta.  The dragons are dying.”

 


	5. The Trouble with Dragons

  
“What?!”  The Doctor and Donna both exclaimed at once.

 

“They’re dying?!  WHY?!” Donna cried.

 

“You  _sent_  for me?!  HOW?!” the Doctor sputtered.

 

Donna turned to the Time Lord and barked, “Oh, just you hush, Spaceman.  It doesn’t matter how.  We’re here now.  We need to concentrate on figuring this out, shall we?”

 

Kyla looked expectantly at the Doctor, waiting to see his reaction.  He stared at her for several seconds before he answered.  “Donna’s right, as usual.  Why we’re here  _is_  the more important issue.”  He wagged his finger in Kyla’s direction and said, “But I  _will_ get an answer to my question at some point.”

 

Kyla smiled and replied, “Aye.  But now,” she stated, “let’s go back to the lounge.  These old bones could do with a bit of warmth.” 

 

She led them back and they all settled on the armchairs by the fire, which had been re-laid with aromatic herbs, giving the air a soothing fragrance.  Kyla took off her shoes and tucked her feet under her.  For all her age, she looked to the Doctor like the young girl her remembered from the cottage in the orchard back on Gallifrey, a thought that brought a bittersweet smile to his face.

 

Kyla continued.  “To answer your question, Donna.  Why, we have no idea.  It began ten years ago, with one of the females, Syriath I believe it was, giving birth to a stillborn hatchling.  We had never had a stillborn before.  Since then it has happened more often, several a year, until last year.  That’s when the remaining females, six in all, stopped producing viable eggs at all.”

 

The Doctor sat back, his brow furrowed.  “I assume you’ve done tests.”

 

Kyla sighed.  “Aye, we’ve tested everything we could think of.  Water, feed, the ground, the air!  Part of the problem is that we can’t even determine what is going wrong with the eggs.  Males and females are mating as usual.  Eggs are being produced and an embryo forms.  But something is happening to disrupt the development of the little things.”

 

Donna gave an involuntary gasp, and without conscious thought, the Doctor reached over and took her hand.  She turned to him and said, tears glistening unshed, “Doctor, we have to help them!”

 

He squeezed her hand gently.  “Of course, we will.”  Addressing Kyla, he remarked, “I am a bit surprised, though.  With all the technology now available to you, you haven’t been able to pinpoint a cause?”

 

“Well, we’re not as technologically advanced as you might imagine,” Kyla said with a sigh.  “We had gotten quite used to living without technology.  When that expedition stumbled across us, we were living well without it.”

 

“That has always puzzled me,” the Doctor interrupted.  “What caused that group to notice you?  Especially since you weren’t putting out any radio or electromagnetic waves.”

 

“Ah,” Kyla answered with a twinkle in her eye.  “That would be the dragons.”

 

“The  _dragons_?” the Doctor asked.  “How did the dragons attract the attention of an interstellar passenger ship?”

 

“It’s actually rather remarkable,” she replied.  “At that time, the dragons had finally attained their full growth, evolving into the lovely beasts ya see today.  We didn’t know it at the time, but during mating season, when the drake is courting the queen, he sends out a radio signal, a  _dragonsong_ , if you will, that is tuned to a specific receptor in the female reproductive organs.  The queen seeks out the drake and replies with a similar song.  Once they begin to mate, their body chemistry changes dramatically and the heat produced by a mating pair can start a forest fire.  That’s why dragons mate in mid-air.  It was these radio pulses that first registered on that ship’s systems.  But it was the extraordinary heat signatures of several mating pairs that really peaked their interest!”

 

The Doctor smirked.  “I can well imagine.”

 

“So, after we made contact with the off-worlders, all the village representatives got together and decided that, while some technology would be highly beneficial, we didn’t want to change our way of life too drastically, just for the sake of the newest and brightest.  Advances in medicine, better building materials, computer data storage, that sort of thing we welcomed.  But we kept it to the basics.”

 

She rubbed her eyes, suddenly looking very weary.  “When I realized we had exhausted all of our avenues of research, I knew I had to have help.  So I called for ya.”

 

The Doctor looked at her closely and said, slowly and deliberately, “How?  How did you call me?  How did you even know about me?”

 

Kyla chuckled.  “Your reputation precedes ya, Theta.  The whole galaxy knows about ‘The Doctor’!  Once we had established relationships with other off-worlders and began to trade with other planets, we had to have some way of communicating with them.  So we developed enough of an interstellar network to maintain connections and get information and news.

 

“One of the first things I did was try to learn what I could about Gallifrey.”  She leaned over and placed her hand on his arm.  “We were so far away from our original starting point that all I could find were second- and third-hand stories about the Time Lords.  But gradually, I began to hear tales about a Time Lord, a renegade, it seemed, calling himself ‘The Doctor’, who, in opposition to their policy of non-involvement, had thumbed his nose at the Council, and aided anyone who needed him.”

 

She sat back in her chair and looked over at Donna.  “As soon as I heard all this, I knew right away it had to be Theta.  He was never one for rules, ya know.”

 

Donna smiled at her.  “Oh, yeah,” she agreed.  “He’s always landing us in jail.  Never knows when to shut up, this one.”  She smack him teasingly on the arm.

 

“It was only twice,” he pouted.  Seeing Donna’s raised eyebrows, he admitted, “Okay, three times, but that last one was not my fault!”  Turning back to Kyla, he continued.  “I’m still not clear here.  I can accept that you learned about me from off-worlders.  But that still doesn’t explain how you could call my TARDIS here without my knowledge.”

 

Kyla got up from her chair and walked over to the fireplace. Reaching up, she lifted a small wooden box, brought it over to him, and motioned for him to open it.  He stared at her, suddenly apprehensive.

 

“Go on, Theta,” she urged.

 

He slowly raised the hinged lid, gasped, and closed it abruptly.  His eyes, wide, darted to hers and locked on.  “Where did you get these?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

 

A small, sad smile formed.  She knelt down next to him and asked, “Where do ya think?”

 

He let out the breath he had been holding.  Shaking his head, he replied, “I can’t believe you kept them.  All these years.”

 

Donna had watched this exchanged and realized something very significant was happening, something she didn’t understand at all.  Her first instinct was to back away, not wanting to invade their privacy.  But the stronger instinct, the one that always flared up where the Doctor’s well-being was concerned, urged her to ask, “What is it, Doctor?  What’s in that box?”

 

The Doctor had momentarily forgotten Donna was there.  Closing his eyes, he composed himself and turned to his companion, holding the box out to her.  She took it, opened it and saw that it contained five  small white cubes, and had a space for a sixth.  She removed one and looked it over carefully, but it seemed to be nothing more than a four centimetre square cube, made out of a translucent material, not exactly plastic, but not glass either.  It weighed next to nothing, and felt unusually cool to the touch.

 

She turned back to the Doctor, her eyes questioning, but he didn’t notice her; he was staring down at Kyla, who was still at his feet.  Donna replaced the cube in the box and gently put it in his hand.  Sitting down on the arm of his chair, she rested her hand on his back, bent down and whispered into his ear, “Are you alright?”

 

The Doctor blinked and broke eye contact with Kyla.  He leaned back slightly, unconsciously seeking the comfort of Donna’s hand.  Looking up at her, her replied, “I’m not sure yet,” and gave her a small, crooked smile.  His honesty both surprised and dismayed her.

 

“Well, what exactly  _is_  that thing?”

 

He picked up the box and fished out one of the cubes, holding it up to the light.  “It’s a hypercube, a Time Lord distress signal.  Well, not  _exactly_  a hypercube.  More like a mini-cube.  Well, a micro-cube really.  Each Time Lord had a hypercube that they could send out through time and space if they ever needed assistance.” 

 

He leaned down and addressed Kyla.  “I made these for you,” he said earnestly.  “At the Academy.  I based them on hypercube technology and tuned them directly to my unique psychic resonance.  I wanted you to have some way of calling to me if you ever needed me.”  He stared at the micro-cube he held between his fingers.  “But you never used them.  Not once.  You never called.”  He slumped back into his chair.  “You never needed me,” he whispered bitterly.

 

“Until now.”

 

Donna’s soft voice in his ear startled him.  “What?”

 

“She never called you, until now.”  Donna squeezed his shoulder lightly.  “She needs you  _now_ , Spaceman.”

 

He drew in a deep breath as her words finally registered in his mind.  “Oh.  Right.  Sorry.”  He hastily put the cube back in its box, and set it aside.  Taking Kyla’s hands, he stood up and helped her to her feet.  “Forgive me.  I get a bit focused sometimes.  Miss the bigger picture.  We’ll figure this out.  I promise.”

 

Kyla raised on hand and cupped his cheek.  “Oh, Theta.  I know ya will.”  Turning to Donna, she said, “It’s getting late.  I’ll have someone take ya back to the suite.  Ya can get started in the morning after a good night’s rest.”  She walked over to a small panel on the wall near the door and pressed a button.

 

Moments later, the door opened and the young man they had met earlier entered.  He bowed deeply to Kyla and acknowledged the Doctor and Donna with a respectful nod.  Kyla addressed him.  “Hal, can ya escort our guests back to their quarters?  Then get yourself to bed.  You should have gone home hours ago!”

 

Haldarel smiled sheepishly.  “I wanted to make sure your guests were well attended, my lady.”

 

“You’re a good boy,” she said.  Turning to the Doctor and Donna, she said, “I’ll have someone bring you down to the solarium for breakfast.”

 

They all said their goodbyes, and began the return trek back to the guest quarters, the Doctor and Donna walking a bit behind their guide, each deep in their own thoughts.  Halderal tried to escort them all the way up to the suite, but Donna assured him they would be fine once they got to the lift. 

 

As soon as they entered their suite, Donna spoke up.  “Doctor,” she said.  “I’m a little confused.”

 

“Hmm?” he responded, not exactly listening to her.

 

“About those cube-thingies.”

 

“The hypercubes?  What about them?”

 

“Well, you said you made them and tuned them into your psychic resonance.”

 

He frowned, wondering where she was going with the conversation.  “That’s right.  It’s my unique “voiceprint”, if you like.  It’s specific to me and me alone.”

 

Donna went on.  “You once told me that you and the TARDIS share a psychic bond.  So I’m assuming that she would have access to your unique psychic resonance, yeah?”

 

His frown got deeper.  “Yes.  She would.  And?”  He was beginning to get an inkling of Donna’s thought process.

 

“See,” she continued.  “I’m thinking that, being linked to you psychically and all, she would have received that hypercube signal and recognized it for what it was, and that’s why she brought us here.  So, the question is, how and  _why_  did she block  **you**  from getting it?”

 

The Doctor rubbed the back if his neck and took a deep breath.  “That, my dear Donna, is the  _first_  question I am going to ask her when we get back.  The cheeky thing has a lot of explaining to do!”

 

Donna tried to stifle a yawn, but the Doctor caught sight of it and went over to her.  “It’s been a long day, and I know you are exhausted.  Why don’t you go to bed?” he took her hand and led her to one of the bedroom doors.  “We’ll meet with Kyla in the morning, and I’m sure we’ll get this all sorted in no time at all.”

 

“I am a bit knackered,” she acquiesced.  “But promise me you’ll try to get some sleep yourself.”

 

He took her hand and raised it to his lips.  “I promise,” he said, and kissed the back of her hand.  She smiled and opened the bedroom door.  “Oh, and Donna,” he called out.

 

“Yeah, Spaceman?

 

“Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For just being here for me.  And for being brilliant.”  He grinned at her.

 

She picked up a small pillow from the settee and threw it at him.  “Aw, go to bed, ya daft Martian!”

 

Chuckling, he caught the pillow deftly and retreated into his room.  She stood a moment staring at the closed door, smiled to herself and shook her head, as she went inside and closed her own door.

 

The next morning, Donna woke, refreshed and relaxed.  She got out of bed and stretched, marvelling again at the thoughtfulness and efficiency of the Pendragorans.  When she had entered the bedroom the night before, she discovered a pair of the softest cotton pyjamas neatly folded at the foot of the bed, and the en-suite contained a variety of bath products, shampoo and conditioner; everything a woman could possibly need.

 

She quickly showered, dressed and walked into the lounge, where she found the Doctor standing on the balcony, fully dressed, complete with suit jacket.  He turned as she slid the glass door open and gave her a big smile.  “Morning, Donna.  Did you sleep well?”

 

She joined him at the railing and replied, “Best night’s sleep I’ve had in, well,  _ever_!  I don’t know what it was made of, but that mattress is bloody amazing.  Do you think we can get one for the TARDIS?” 

 

He laughed and gave her a quick hug.  “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

She looked at him and noticed that he seemed much calmer, less troubled than before.  She asked, “What about you?  Did you get any rest at all?”

 

He smiled, reminded again of her constant concern for his well-being.  “As a matter of fact, I did,” he replied.  “A few hours anyway.  I did come out here at dawn to see ‘Dragonflight’.  Absolutely breathtaking.  You really ought to see it.  Maybe we can watch it together tomorrow morning.”

 

She smirked at him.  “I don’t know.  Getting up at dawn?  I need my beauty sleep.”

 

“It’s a sight you really shouldn’t miss.”  He turned back and leaned on the rail.  “Besides,” he said quietly, almost to himself, “you already  _are_  beautiful.”

 

Donna wasn’t sure she heard him correctly, but didn’t want to put a damper on his good mood.  Instead, she pretended she hadn’t heard and asked, “So.  You think we’re going to stay here a while?”

 

The Doctor shook himself out of his reverie.  “A few days at least,” he answered.  “I’ll have to meet with the scientific team and go over what tests they’ve done and the results.  Run a few tests of my own.  We should be able get this sorted in no time.”

 

Donna thought to herself,  _‘Good luck with **that** , Spaceman.  When did anything ever go as planned?’_  But she said nothing.  At that moment, the doorbell chimed.  Answering it, they found Halderal, once again at his post as guide, standing proudly in his green-and-gold uniform.

 

“Good morning, Sir.  Miss.  The Matromna wishes that you join her for breakfast in the solarium.  If you would please come with me.”  He held the door open for them to precede him.  The Doctor grabbed his overcoat and the pair followed the young guide. 

 

As they made their way to the Administration Building, Donna struck up a conversation with Halderal.  “Thank you so much for your assistance, Halderal.  We really wouldn’t have been able to find our way around on our own.”

 

Halderal blushed slightly at her praise.  “No thanks necessary, Miss.  It’s my duty to perform whatever tasks the Matromna requires of me.”

 

“Please.  Call me Donna.”

 

“Oh, I couldn’t do that, Miss.  I must show proper respect to the guests at the Citadel,” he protested.

 

Donna put her hand on his arm.  “Well, if we ever run into each other, when you’re not showing me about, I expect you to call me by my given name.  None of this ‘Miss’ rubbish.  Understand?”  She smiled broadly at him.

 

Halderal grinned back at her.  “Aye, Miss.  And you can call me Hal.”

 

The Doctor watched the two of them and he was once again reminded of how immensely grateful he was that Donna had landed on his ship on that fateful wedding day, and had changed her mind and found her way back to him.

 

They arrived at the Administration Building and Halderal brought them immediately to the solarium.  A round table with five chairs had been set up in the centre of the room under a large willow tree, with fragrant flowers on all sides.  Two men were sitting with Kyla, and they stood when the Doctor and Donna approached.  Kyla motioned them all to sit.  The Doctor took the seat to Kyla’s right, with Donna next to him.

 

“Doctor, Donna, I invited Basmatharel and Tykorion to join us.  Bas is our most senior medical officer and Tyko manages the hatchery, with his wife Annarion.  I wanted us all to meet over a meal and then afterwards Tyko can show ya around the hatchery and Bas will give ya an overview of what steps we’ve already taken.  I reckon ya’ll want to conduct your own tests.”

 

“That would be very helpful,” the Doctor replied, as plates of food were placed before them.  “I’ll need to get some equipment from my ship first.  And I’m sure Donna would like to pick up a few things of her own, since we’ll likely be here for a few days.”  He smiled at his companion, who was a little taken aback at his thoughtfulness.

 

“I assumed ya would and had Lysa make the necessary arrangements.  Now, let’s all tuck into this lovely meal and forget this business for a while.”

 

After a very pleasant breakfast, during which Donna engaged Tykorion in conversation about the dragons and their history.  At the end of the meal, the Doctor arranged to meet Basmatharel at the medical facilities in two hours.  The two men took their leave of Kyla with a bow, and Halderal led the Doctor and Donna to the entrance of the building.

 

When they emerged through the alabaster doors, Donna was delighted to see Korsarion and Korioth waiting for them.  She quickly walked over to them and put out her hand to the dragon, as she had done the previous day.  Korioth bumped her hand with his head and began to thrum loudly.  Korsarion grinned at the pleasure his dragon was getting from contact with Donna.

 

The other rider, an older man named Quintarion, walked over to the young rider.  “What is  _that_  all about, Korsa?”

 

“It’s Miss Noble, sir,” Korsarion replied, still grinning.  “She has a way with dragons, it seems.”

 

“Well, let’s get on our way, before Quintarioth goes all funny on me!” Quintarion laughed.

 

The two riders assisted their riders in donning the protective gear and mounting the dragons.  This time, Donna was a willing participant, enjoying the smooth flight with much enthusiasm.  When they reached the base of the hill on which the TARDIS stood, the dragons landed and the two time travellers returned to their ship.

 

Upon opening the TARDIS door, the Doctor immediately dashed off down the hall to locate lab.  Donna went to her room and quickly packed a small suitcase and her toiletries bag.  When she stepped back out into the corridor, she noticed a small tan bag and a black satchel sitting in the hall outside the Doctor’s bedroom.  She picked them up, added them to the suitcase trolley, and returned to the control room, to wait for the Doctor.

 

She heard vague noises, a bit of shouting, and then the heavy footfalls of someone not at all pleased.  The Doctor stomped into the control room and proceeded to open one of the hatches under the console.  Muttering to himself, he began to remove boxes and cartons.  Donna stared at him for a while before she spoke.

 

“Doctor, what are you looking for?” she asked.

 

“Everything!” he shouted.  “I couldn’t find the lab, even thought I  _know_  it was there last week.  Now I’m trying to find the portable gas chromatograph, the multi-phase soil sampler,  _anything_  that would help me figure out this problem.”  He pulled on his ear in frustration.  “If I didn’t know better, I would say she was  _hiding_  things from me.”

 

“Well, apparently not everything.  I found this outside your room.”  She handed him the black satchel, which looked remarkably like a doctor’s medical bag.

 

Taking it from her hands, he ran a finger slowly over the metal letters on the front of the bag: **Θ Σ.** He looked from the bag back to Donna. “This was in the hall?”

 

“Yeah.  What is it?”

 

“It’s my old school bag, from my days as a cadet.  We had to do all of our experiments manually, without the use of technology.”  He shook his head.  For some reason, she thinks I may need these tools.”  He sighed.  “Well, let’s get back.  Maybe after I talk with the doctor and his staff, I’ll have a better idea of which devices I’ll need.  We can come back later.  Quintarion told me that they would be on call whenever we needed transport.”

 

Donna gave the Doctor the other bag the TARDIS had provided, and the two exited the ship.  Halfway back to where the dragonriders were waiting, he suddenly stopped, patted his pockets, turned and asked, “Donna, do you have my sonic?

 

“Now what would I be doing with your sonic?”

 

“I must have left it in the TARDIS.  Be right back.”  He put down his bags and walked back up the hill.  He put his key in the door and turned.  Nothing happened.  He tried again.  Same result: nothing.  He pounded on the door and even tried kicking it.

 

From her vantage point, Donna couldn’t see exactly what was happening at the top of the hill.  She shouted up, “Oi!  Time Boy!  We’re wasting time here.  What’s going on?”

 

The Doctor stormed down the hill, cursing in a language she vaguely recognized but did not fully understand.  He came to a stop in front of her.  “What’s going on?” he shouted.  “I’ll tell you what’s going on?  She locked me out!   **My bloody ship has locked me out!!** ”


	6. Deciphering Data

Donna had never seen the Doctor so angry. This was worse, even, than that time with the Queen of the Racnoss. His face was red, his eyes black pools of rage. Dropping her bags, she grabbed his face in both her hands and said insistently, “Doctor. Look at me. You have to calm down. I have no idea what is going on with you and the TARDIS, but there’s got to be an explanation. But none of that’s important right now.”

 

She turned his head slightly. “See there? There are two dragonriders waiting to take us back to the Citadel. This is no time to be pitching a pink fit. We’ll figure what’s wrong with her later. Right now, we’ve got a crisis, and these people... Kyla ... is counting on you!”

 

Slowly, the Doctor’s breathing slowed and his eyes returned to their normal warm chocolate brown. He took one long, deep breath and let it out, as he reined in his anger. Donna dropped her hands and smiled. “You got it together there, Sunshine?”

 

He gave her a crooked grin. “Donna Noble, whatever would I do without you?” He picked up his bags and, extending his arm to her, he said, “Shall we?”

 

They walked the rest of the way down the hill to where the dragons and their riders waited patiently for them to return. Donna reached the spot where Korsarion and Korioth stood. As he took her bags and strapped them down carefully, he asked shyly, “Anything wrong, Miss?”

 

Donna buckled the flight coat. “Oh, nothing more than usual. Just Time Lord moodiness. You get used to it after a while,” she replied with a grin.

 

Korsarion grinned back at her. “I know what you mean. My sister get like that whenever Magarath is out of sorts.”

 

“Your sister’s a rider too?”

 

“Not exactly, Miss. Queens don’t fly much and definitely are not used for transport. They are much too valuable.”

 

As Donna settled into the saddle, she turned her head and said to Korsarion, “You’ll have to take me to see her sometime. I’d love to get to know more about the dragons. It’s all very fascinating.”

 

“I’d be honoured to, Miss,” the young rider replied, with a bit of a blush tingeing his cheeks. “I’m sure Maggie would be thrilled to meet you. Oh, and the Doctor, of course,” he added quickly.

 

They arrived back at the Citadel landing area, and the Doctor promptly hopped off Quintarioth and headed for the main gates. Donna made sure to thank both riders and their dragons for their service. Quintarion handed Donna a pair of metal discs, explaining that they could be used to summon a rider if they needed transport. She thanked him again, and hurried to catch up with the Doctor.

 

They were met at the gates by the now-familiar sight of Haldarel waiting for them. He greeted them warmly and reached to take their bags. Addressing the Doctor, he informed him, “Finntarel here will take you over to the science building, sir. Basmatharel and the others are expecting you.” Another young man in green-and-gold livery and with bright copper hair gave them a deep bow.

 

Donna said, “Doctor, I’ll go and get us settled. Unpack and all that. See you back in the room for dinner, yeah?”

 

As she turned to follow Haldarel, the Doctor grabbed her hand and exclaimed, “No! No no no no! You have to come with me!”

 

She pulled her hand away. “What do you need me for? I’m not a scientist or a doctor. Of any sort.”

 

“No,” he replied, with a grin on his face. “But you are ‘Super Temp’, am I right? Well, we’re going to be sorting through all manner of data and, remember, no computers. So I need the best secretary in the galaxy by my side to take notes. And to keep me focused!” He winked at her with this last statement.

 

He felt a little ashamed at appealing to her weakness, pride in her work ethic, but he was feeling rather insecure being without his sonic screwdriver and all the high tech gadgets he relied on to help him sort things out properly. Not that he would tell her that!

 

Donna stared at him, her eyes narrowing alarmingly. She caught a faint glimmer of something in his face, a brief flash of uncertainty, a micro-expression, that softened her. “Oh, all right,” she said, a touch of exasperation in her voice. “Just let me get our things upstairs....”

 

“Oh, no need, Miss Noble,” Haldarel interrupted. “I’ll be happy to take care of that. I’ll make sure they are delivered to your rooms.”

 

“That’s very kind of you,” Donna replied, touching the young man on the arm. “I’ll let the Matromna knows how attentive you’ve been to us.” Turning to the Doctor, she snapped, “Okay, Time Boy. Let’s not keep the others waiting then. You’ve wasted enough time as it is!” Grabbing him by the hand, she motioned Finntarel to lead the way, the Doctor in tow like an unruly child. She winked at Haldarel as they passed, and he stifled a snicker.

 

As they walked toward the science facilities at the far end of the Citadel, Donna chatted with Finntarel. At first, the young man was reticent to speak to someone he considered his superior, but Donna quickly disabused him of that notion. She learned that he was from a family of seven children, that he had a twin sister Finnaria, who was studying to be a biologist, and that he hoped one day to move up in the ranks to be head of exports. Donna praised him for his ambition and encouraged him to follow his dreams.

 

They soon reached the large white building that housed Pendragora’s medical and scientific offices and laboratories. The doors through which they entered were carved with the same curious symbols that Donna had noticed on the gates to Kyla’s residence, symbols she remembered vaguely from all the little sticky notes stuck all over the TARDIS’ console and kitchen cabinets. As they entered, she pointed them out and asked, “Those squiggles. Are they some kind of Gallifreyan hieroglyphics, or are they just art? I saw them over at Kyla’s too.” She didn’t mention his notes.

 

He turned and replied, with a grin, “See how clever you are! You’re very close. It’s both, in a way.” Tracing his finger over one set of circles and swirls in almost a caress, he continued. “This is actually the written form of the Gallifreyan language. It’s not surprising that they have incorporated it into their building schemes.”

 

“It’s beautiful. Does it sound as lovely as it looks?” Donna asked, a touch of awe in her voice.

 

The Doctor’s smile faded quickly and his face turned stony. “No one speaks it now.” He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and strode ahead. 

 

They continued on in awkward silence for a short while until Finntarel stopped in front of a set of double doors. Rapping lightly, he opened one door and escorted them into the large room. Inside were Basmatharel and Tykorion, whom they had seen that morning at breakfast, Lysarion, and three others who were strangers to them. Finntarel announced them saying, “Sirs, and Madam, the Doctor and his companion, Miss Donna Noble.”

 

Basmatharel walked over to the couple and shook their hands. “Thank you, Finntarel.” The young man bowed and moved to the far end of the room. The elder Pendragoran turned back to the Doctor and Donna and led them over to the assembled group. “I believe you know Lysarion,” he began. The Captain nodded his head formally. “And Tykorion you met this morning. The lovely lady at his right is his wife Annarion. That other old codger is Torgethel, formerly our ship’s engineer and now animal husbandry expert. And this,” he said, indicating a solemn middle-aged man in a long white tunic, “is Rylarel, our Head of Research and the grandson of our Matromna.”

 

Greetings were exchanged and Rylarel led them all to a conference table where large packets had been placed at seven of the chairs. The scientist turned to Donna and said politely, “I apologize, Domna. I was unaware that you would be attending this meeting. I will have another information packet prepared for you immediately.”

 

Donna smiled at replied, “There’s no need for that. I’m just here to take notes for him,” indicating the Doctor. “Although I could use a pen and a pad of paper, or a notebook, or something.” As they sat down, she leaned over to the Doctor and whispered, “Should I tell him he mispronounced my name, or would that be rude?”

 

He whispered back, “Actually he didn’t. He used a variant of the Latin ‘Domina’, which means ‘Lady’. He is showing you a sign of great respect.”

 

“Oh,” she murmured and sat back, a bit stunned.

 

Rylarel motioned to Finntarel, who immediately came to his side. They spoke quietly and the young man hurried over to a tall cabinet, opened it, and returned with the items Donna had requested. She thanked him and Rylarel , and turned to a clean page in the notebook, preparing to assist the Doctor in any way he needed. Then the men opened the information packets and the analysis of the data commenced.

 

Thus began what for Donna was the longest two weeks of her life. Each day followed the same pattern: breakfast with Kyla and one or two others; the morning hours spent listening to the scientific team and the Doctor discussing the research and experiments that had been conducted already and frantically trying to record every detail in her own personal shorthand; a quick lunch break at the lab’s cafeteria; and then more discussion and note-taking. The Doctor and Donna would return to their room after a exhausting day for dinner.

 

The rest of the evening was spent with Donna typing up her notes (on a manual typewriter, no less) and the Doctor pouring over them, brainy specs perched on the bridge of his nose, desperately searching for some indication of what was happening. 

 

It was rather slow going at first. The Doctor had to stop and explain concepts and spell any terminology that Donna was unfamiliar with, which was much of the initial discussion. But as the days went on, she found that she was catching on more easily than she would have imagined, and by the end of the first week, she was able to keep up, much to the surprise and pleasure of the Doctor. She felt useful and a little proud of herself.

 

The one thing that put a definite crimp in her enjoyment of the proceedings was the Doctor’s constant grumbling (only when alone with Donna, of course) about how much simpler everything would be if only he had access to his equipment on the TARDIS. “Even just my sonic!” he protested. “I’d have it all figured out like that!” and snapped his fingers.

 

After four days of this, Donna had had enough. She stopped typing and strode over to where he had thrown himself across the settee. Grabbing the papers out of his hands, she dropped them on the table and sat down beside him. “Listen, Spaceman,” she said sternly. It’s getting a little tiresome listening to you whinge and moan about not having all your fancy Time Lordy gadgets. The TARDIS must have had a reason to make you do this the hard way. Instead of wasting so much energy complaining, why don’t you use that big brain of yours with your superior intellect, and figure out what she wants you to do?” She stood up to return to her typing. “And don’t go all pouty on me either!” she threw over her shoulder.

 

He took off his glasses and began to clean them with the hem of his untucked shirt. “I don’t pout,” he muttered.

 

“You do so,” she shot back, having a hard time holding in a smirk as she looked over at him, pouting to rival any unhappy three-year-old. Their eyes met and they held each other’s gaze for a long few seconds, until both of them burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.

 

The Doctor stood up, walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. “That’s what I love about having you with me, Donna. You keep me grounded. When I get too full of myself, you put me squarely back in my place. Thank you.” He squeezed her shoulder and walked away. But Donna chuckled as she heard him murmuring to himself, “But I don’t pout.”

 

To his credit, he did think about what Donna had said, and decided to consider it a personal challenge and make the best of the situation. The second week brought them to the actual new research. The Doctor discovered he was really quite excited at the prospect of conducting experiments with just his wits and the (to him) archaic instrumentation at his disposal. Soil and water samples were taken. Blood was drawn from the dragons and their riders to compare to previous tests. Notes were compiled and results compared.

 

The Doctor was in his element. Donna, however, was bored out of her mind. The next six days were spent watching a bunch of men (and one manic Time Lord) scurrying about with beakers, test tubes, clipboards, and all manner of solutions, powders and drops. Finally, on the morning of the fifteenth day since they had landed on Pendragora, she came to a decision.

 

The two had breakfasted in their room, while the Pendradorans attended religious services. The Doctor sat surrounded by charts and graphs, and Donna was tidying up the kitchen area. She called out to him, “Doctor.” He didn’t respond, being totally engrossed in the data sheets in his hand, chewing on the end of a pencil, with his glasses sliding precariously to the end of his nose. She called again, a little more emphatically, “Doctor!” He managed a distracted mumble. “Hmm?” Exasperated, she stood in the middle of the room and barked, “Oi! Time Boy!! I’m talking to you here!”

 

The volume of her shout disturbed his concentration, and he looked up with a frown. Seeing Donna standing over him, her arms crossed and her face a murderous mask, he wisely put down his papers and took off his glasses. Looking at her as contritely as he could, he said, “I’m so sorry, Donna. Were you trying to say something? These calculations just aren’t making any sense to me, and I got a little preoccupied.” Standing up, he walked over to her and put both hands on her arms and said, “You have my undivided attention. What did you need?”

 

Donna’s expression softened a bit, as she recognized that he was genuinely repentent. She took a deep breath to calm herself before she replied. Releasing it slowly, she began, “I don’t want you to go all huffy on me, but I’ve decided that I’m not going back with you to the labs tomorrow.”

 

“Aw, but Donna,” he whined, as she knew he would. “I need you. You’re a vital member of the team!”

 

“No, I’m not, “ she countered. “You don’t need me; you just need an audience, someone to tell you how amazing you are.” He started to sputter in protest. She stopped him with an upraised finger. “Oh, just you hush, and hear me out.” Taking him by the hand, she led him back to the settee and sat down. “What I’d like to do,” she began, “is spend some time down at the Volery. Get a bit of background. See the day-to-day of dragon life. Korsarion told me he would introduce me to his sister Maggie; she’s bonded to one of the queens. I thought I’d find out what she can tell me about the whole eggs and birth cycle and like that.” She sat back to gauge his reaction to her proposal. “A different perspective, yeah?”

 

The Doctor frowned as he contemplated her words. His initial response normally would have been one of complete denial. But as he leaned against the arm of the settee, he mulled it over. Reaching a conclusion, he turned to her and said sincerely, “Donna, I have said it before and I’ll keep saying it. You. Are. Brilliant! That is an excellent idea, and I am just surprised that I didn’t think of it myself.”

 

Donna sat in stunned silence. She was sure he was going to argue with her. Cautiously, she asked, “Really? You’re not just humouring me, are you? ‘Cuz I’ll be having none of that, thank you very much.”

 

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Honestly. Cross my hearts. Finding out more about the dragons themselves from the ones who spend the most time with them could be very helpful in the long run, and right now, with all the lab work we’ve started, checking and re-checking the experiments, I’m not sure when I’d have the time to do it. You’ll be my representative in the field. We’ll compare information at the end of the day, and, if anything relevant comes up, I’ll present it to the research team.” He rubbed his hands together. “This really could work.” He turned to her and said, simply, “Thank you.”

 

His expression was part genuine gratitude and part child-like excitement. She chuckled and said, “No thanks necessary, Spaceman. I just want to be useful.” She took the metal disk that Quintarion had given her. “I’ll call Korsarion this afternoon and arrange it.”

 

The next day, Donna said goodbye to the Doctor and made her way down to the landing area outside the gates of the Citadel, where she was met by an eager dragon and his rider. Korioth greeted her with a loud thrum and Korsarion grinned as he helped her into her flight gear.

 

“Thanks so much for this,” she told him sincerely, to both the rider and the dragon.

 

“It’s my honour, Miss Noble,” the young man replied. “The whole Volery has been talking about it. They’re beyond thrilled that the Doctor’s Lady would come and visit.”

 

Donna laughed. “First things, first. No more of this ‘Miss Noble’ nonsense. I’m just Donna. And I am certainly not the Doctor’s ‘Lady’. I’m my own person, and if he says otherwise, you let me know, and I’ll deal with that sanctimonious little git.”

 

“Maggie is going to love you,” Korsarion exclaimed, as they mounted the dragon and strapped in. The flight to the Volery was not long, but once again, Donna felt a surge of excitement at being in the air, and that fleeting nudge or tingle in her mind. It was brief but rather pleasant, so she chalked it up to the energy of the moment. They landed at the designated area adjacent to the Volery a short while later. She dismounted and stood in awe, as she observed the flurry of activity before her.

 

But what truly amazed her was the dragons themselves, a multitude in a vast array of sizes and hues. Many were large and stately like Lyrioth, mostly with deep bronze hides and scales. A few were clearly adolescents, whose colours were muted. But the vast majority were the sturdy, medium-sized dragons like Korioth and Serioth. These varied from gold to light bronze to copper, with a smattering of greens in a range of shades from deep emerald to pale fern. There were dragons on the ground and in the air, some performing training manoeuvres, others being groomed by doting riders, some just lounging in the warm sun.

 

Donna stared open-mouthed at the sight of so many of the magnificent creatures and the size of the Volery. To the north of the landing field was a vast cliff, towering 125 metres and stretching for 100 kilometres. This cliff was dotted with countless cave-mouths, which led to a labyrinth of connecting caverns that the dragons inhabited. To the south, a number of buildings, ranging from a large dormitory to small, individual cottages, housed the riders themselves.

 

It was from the dormitory that a small figure came racing out toward them. The young girl had the dark auburn hair that seemed to pervade the Citadel and it hung in a plait down her back, which threatened to come undone with every step. “Korsa!” she cried, coming to a stumbling halt in front of the rider and throwing her arms around his waist. “I’m so excited! We all are! Magarath was impossible this morning. I couldn’t get her to settle down.”

 

Korsarion laughed at his little sister. “Maggie! Show some decorum. You’re worse than Magarath any day! He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her away slightly. “Donna is going to think you’re an over-active child, rather than the queen rider that you are!” Korsarion turned her around and said, pointedly, “Donna, this is Maggarion, my excitable baby sister.”

 

Maggarion gasped when she realized that she had run right past Donna, without noticing her. She immediately turned and curtsied. “Donma, I am so sorry. It’s such an honour to meet you.” She kept her eyes lowered and stammered on. “Korsa can tell you, I get a little carried away sometimes.”

 

Donna looked at the girl, who appeared to be no older than eighteen, and thought to herself, “Oh, she’s so young!” She smiled and touched her cheek. “Like I told your brother, I’m just Donna. No need to get all bothered. I’m just a temp. You’re the one who’s bonded to a dragon!”

 

Maggie’s enthusiasm bubbled over again. She grabbed Donna’s hand and dragged her away toward the cliff, chattering as she did. “Is it really true that Korioth thrums for you every time he see you?”

 

Donna and Korsarion exchanged glances, hers confused, his embarrassed. “Where did you hear that?” she asked the girl.

 

“From Kori.”

 

Donna was bewildered. “Can you all talk to each other’s dragons?”

 

“No, silly,” Maggie giggled. “We are only telepathically linked to our own. But the dragons talk to each other all the time. So Kori told Maga, and Maga told me. In fact,” she mused, “I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the dragons have passed on that little tidbit.” She looked at her brother and smirked. He rolled his eyes.

 

They entered a large cavern and made their way two levels up, Donna being greeted and bowed to until she was a bit uncomfortable. Finally, they reached their destination. At the near end of the second level, there was an area with openings to several smaller caves all facing a central enclosure. A shallow bowl was dug into the rock with shelves on three sides. Maggie explained that this was the birthing chamber where the queens would lay and hatch their eggs.

 

They continued over to one of the caves and Maggie motioned them to follow her. It was surprisingly light inside, with glowing orbs set into the rock wall. She walked into the middle of the cave and put her hand on the neck of the dragon sitting there. “Donna, this is Magarath, my sweet little queenie.”

 

Donna gasped. Sitting before her was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. Her hide was a bright ultramarine, with iridescent scales of various shades of blue, that glimmered and changed as she breathed. The dragon lifted her head and tilted it sideways, gazing at Donna with glittering crystal green/gold eyes. Donna put out her hand, as she had done with Korioth, and Magarath shied away at first, but gradually stretched her neck and touched the woman’s hand with the tip of her snout, snuffling as she did.

 

Donna chuckled at the feel of Magarath’s warm breath across the back of her hand. Boldly, she reached out with two fingers and stroked her snout. The dragon slowly closed her eyes and pushed her head more firmly under Donna’s palm, who responded by raising her other hand and scratching delicately behind an eye ridge.

 

“She’s absolutely gorgeous!” Donna exclaimed. “What an amazing colour.” She turned to Korsarion and asked, “I didn’t see any dragons outside with this colour. Are there many others this shade of blue?”

 

He replied, with a note of pride in his voice, “There has only ever been one other Blue: Kylarath, the Matromna’s queen. Blues are very, very rare. And Maggie is the youngest person ever to imprint. The two of them are a right miracle!”

 

Donna thought this information over as she continued to gently rub Magarath’s head. Suddenly, the queen made a keening sound and lurched to her left. Donna cried out in dismay. “I’m so sorry! Did I hurt her? I didn’t mean to.” She stepped back toward the cave mouth.

 

Maggie walked calmly over to her queen and gently rubbed her neck. “Oh, it’s not your fault, Donna. Maga’s just a little sensitive right now. Broody queens get that way sometimes.” She turned to her brother and grinned.

 

Korsarion stared at his sister, his brow furrowed, the frown gradually transforming into a massive grin, as the import of her words sunk in. He ran over and grabbed her in a bear hug, swinging her around as he laughed. Maggie giggled and said, “Put me down, Korsa! Before Maga thinks you’re hurting me!”

 

Korsarion finally lowered Maggie to her feet. “When, Maggie? When did you find out?” he asked excitedly.

 

“She just told me this morning. I haven’t had the chance to tell you or anyone about it. Isn’t it great?!”

 

Donna watched the two young people, infected by their exuberant joy. Korsarion hugged his sister again and walked back over to Donna, as the young girl caressed and comforted her queen. “I’d probably better explain,” he began.

 

“No need,” Donna replied with a smile. “I used to spend part of my summers as a child at my great-uncle’s farm. I’ve been around broody hens.” She looked over at the rider and queen and her eyes misted over at the sight of such affection. “Magarath is egg-bound.” Her smile faded as another, more serious thought emerged. She grabbed Korsarion’s arm. “I have to get back to the Doctor immediately,” she said, urgently. “This changes everything!”


	7. Revelations

“What is it?” the young man asked Donna, hearing the anxiety in her voice. 

 

  
She realized she must have frightened him with her tone, and quickly tried to reassure him.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to alarm you.  I just need talk to the Doctor about this as soon as I can.  You know he’s trying to find out what’s been happening with the still births and all.”

 

  
“Aye,” Korsarion said quietly.  “And I am a little worried about Maggie.  For all her enthusiasm, she’s really just a little girl.”

 

  
“The Doctor will figure it out,” she said, trying to soothe his fears.  “He’s like a dog with a bone when he’s working on a mystery.”

  
  
“I’ll take you back to the medical facilities and then come back here to be with Mags.”

 

  
Donna called out to the young girl, “Maggie.  I have to get back to the Doctor.  But I’ll come tomorrow to see how you and Magarath are doing.  Give her my congratulations, will you?”

 

  
Maggie looked over at Donna with a beatific smile.  “Oh, she knows.  She heard you and sends her thanks.”  The blue dragon raised her head and nodded it in Donna’s direction.  Then the two, queen and rider, were oblivious to anything but each other.

 

  
Donna and Korsarion quickly left the Volery and made their way to where Korioth was sunning himself.  The young rider said, “We’ll take you as close to the medical facilities as we can.  But I want to come back and be with Maggie.  Just to make sure she’s okay.”

 

  
Donna put her hand on his arm.  “Of course.  I understand completely.  I can find my own way home.”

 

  
Korioth landed in a moderately open square by the far gates of the Citadel near the medical building.  Donna leapt off as soon as he touched down, kissed Korsarion quickly on the cheek and gave the dragon a hasty head rub as she darted off.  Having forgone the headgear and eye protection in her rush to get back, her ginger hair was tousled and windblown, but she took no notice.

 

  
She pelted into the building and raced down the main corridor, calling out as she did.  “Doctor!” she shouted.  “Dooooooooc-toooooooor!”  She continue in the same vein until, at the end of the hall, a door opened abruptly, and the man himself stepped out.

 

  
He was wearing a long white tunic, safety goggles and heavy padded gloves that extended to his elbows, and held a smoking beaker.  “Blimey, you can shout!” he exclaimed.  “What is it?  We’re in the middle of an extremely sensitive experiment and ...” he trailed off as he took in her dishevelled appearance and wide, anxious eyes.  “Donna?” he asked, immediately concerned.  “What’s wrong?”

 

  
As she struggled to catch her breath, he guided her into the lab and sat her down.  Putting the beaker down on the heat-resistant counter, he peeled the gloves off and threw the goggles on the counter.  He instructed one of the assistants to fetch a glass of water, and knelt down beside her.  “Are you alright?”  When she nodded, he continued, “What’s happened?”

 

  
Donna took in a few more panting breaths before she could speak.  “I’ve been down at the Volery.”  She suddenly gripped his hands.  “Doctor!  You have to help them!”

 

  
“Who, Donna?  Help who?”

 

  
She took one final, deep breath.  “Magarath is pregnant,” she announced.

 

  
He looked at her and asked, quizzically, “Who is Magarath?”

 

  
“She’s the newest queen and is bonded to Korsarion’s little sister, Maggarion.  Magarath is a rare blue dragon.  There’s only been one other.”  Her grasp of his hands tightened.  “If anything happens to this egg, if there’s another still birth, they’ll both be devastated!  We have to fix this!”  Her voice caught in her throat.  “Doctor, she only eighteen!”

 

  
The Doctor gazed at Donna and felt a lump form in his own throat.  She was clearly distraught and was looking to him for answers.  His hearts clenched at the sight of the tears she was working so hard at holding back.

 

  
“Donna,” he began, holding her hands tightly.  “We’ll make this right.  I promise.”  Pulling her gently to her feet, he put his arm around her and hugged her to him.  “Go home and rest.  We’ve got a few experiments to finish up here and then I’ll meet you back at the suite.  We’ll work out a plan, get it all sorted.”

 

  
She sagged slightly against him, feeling his strength supporting her, not only physically, but emotionally as well.  She smiled and stepped away from him after a bit.  “I’m going back to the Volery tomorrow.  I really think I should check in on Maggie.  Maybe talk to the other queen riders.  We’re going to need all the information we can get from the riders themselves.”

 

  
He gave her a lopsided grin.  “My trusty field general.  We’ll talk later.”  He dropped a casual kiss on the top of her head and turned back to the group of scientists who had been milling about while they talked.  Motioning to a familiar face, the Doctor instructed Finntarel to see Donna to the suite. 

 

  
Feeling better, she turned back to him before she left.  “Doctor,” she began.  “I have to ask.  What are you wearing?”

 

  
He looked at her, confused.  “It’s my scientist tunic.  Don’t you think I look dashing and intelligent?”

 

  
Donna snickered.  “You look like Doctor Horrible!”

 

  
“What!?  Who??” he exclaimed, offended.

 

  
“Obscure Earth pop culture reference,” she replied.  “Never mind.”  And with that, she walked away, leaving the Doctor shaking his head.

 

  
On the walk back to the guest quarters, Donna attempted to get her troubled mind off of the immediate problem by talking with Finntarel about his plans for the future.  “You said you wanted to get into the exports side of things, yeah?” she asked.

 

  
“Oh, yes, Miss,” Finntarel replied enthusiastically.  “It all started about ten years ago.  I was out in the meadow with my father and brothers and we saw a large Silurian cargo ship touch down out in one of our fallow fields.  The ship was too big to land in the normal loading areas, you see, and they had to carry their goods from the factories to their ship by ground transport.  It was the first time I had ever seen off-worlders close up!”

 

  
He grinned at the memory and continued.  “I think I decided then and there that I wanted to do something bigger and better than be a field hand.  So, after speaking with my parents, I applied for training in the business school.  I’m taking classes but it’s going to take a while to get all the background I need.  I’m working here at the Citadel when I’m not in school.  I hope one day to move from Service into Administration.  And see where it can take me.”

 

  
Donna listened to the young Pendragoran speak with such fervour about his plans, and realised that this was the most she had ever heard him say.  “It sounds like you have a good plan.  So seeing aliens really sparked your interest?”

 

  
Finntarel slowed his step a little as he thought about his answer.  “Actually,” he began.  “It wasn’t so much the aliens, as you call them, as the inefficiency of them having to land so far from the Citadel.  It got me thinking that there had to be a better way.  It was inconvenient for them, and a nuisance for the farmers, what with the noise and the fumes and all.”

 

  
Donna smiled at his priorities.  “Most people would be bonkers over seeing ‘off-worlders’.  You want to improve efficiency.  I have a feeling you’ll go far, Finntarel,” she said with a chuckle.

 

  
He blushed at her praise.  Soon they reached the lobby of the guest quarters and she thanked him and said goodbye.  Making her way to the suite, she entered and immediately took off her shoes and walked over to the kitchen area for a glass of water.  She retrieved her book, a battered copy of  _Death on the Nile_ that she found in the TARDIS’ library, and stretched out on the settee, intending to wait for the Doctor.

 

  
He let himself in several hours later.  The experiments were not going well, and Donna’s news put an additional pressure on him to find the solution.  He was tired and angry and not a little frustrated.  But the sight that greeted him when he walked into the lounge melted his hearts and brought a tender smile to his face.  Donna lay curled up on the settee, her bare feet peeking out from the hem of her trousers, her book fallen forgotten on the floor.  He was struck with how charming she looked, cradling a throw pillow, her ginger hair spread over the arm of the settee.

 

  
Setting the folders he had brought with him on the dining table, he started toward his bedroom to fetch the duvet to cover her.  He had only taken a few steps when he heard a sound behind him.  “Oi, Spaceman,” Donna murmured softly.  He turned and smiled.

 

  
“Sorry,” he said.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

 

  
She sat up and rubbed her eyes.  “What time is it?”

 

  
“Late,” he replied.  “Later than I thought I’d be.  Sorry.”

 

  
Donna patted the space next to her.  “So what’s wrong?” she asked.  “You’ve got that squinty eyed wrinkled forehead face.”  She demonstrated, making him laugh.

 

  
He plopped down beside her and grumbled, “I just don’t understand it, Donna.  I can’t find exactly what is causing the dragons to still birth.  Everything seems to be so normal.”  He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.

 

  
She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed encouragingly.  “I’m going back to the Volery tomorrow and spend some time with Maggie and Magarath.  I think I’ll talk with the other queen riders, especially those who, well, you know,” she trailed off, her voice tinged with sadness.  Impulsively, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.  “Don’t fret.  We’ll get it all sorted.  Now I’m going to bed.  See you in the morning.”

 

  
The Doctor sat in the lounge for a long time, thinking about a great many things, not all of which pertained to the dragons’ plight.

 

  
After breakfast the next day, they each returned to their respective duties, the Doctor to the labs, Donna and Korsarion to the Volery.  He dropped her off and promised he would return for her in the afternoon.  Donna spent the day talking with the young queen rider.  Being an only child, she had often wished she had a younger sister, and she found herself becoming attached to the young girl.  Maggie told her that she was had six older brothers, and that she was the only girl.  Her brothers alternated between teasing her unmercifully and being stiflingly overprotective.  She explained her mother was a veterinarian as well as a homemaker, so she had often been left on her own.

 

  
She then told Donna of the day that she imprinted on Magarath, beaming with pride and continuously stroking and hugging her queen.  “I was only sixteen.  I wasn’t even there for the imprinting ceremony, just with the rest of the family to see if Dagarel, that’s brother number four, would imprint.  Well, this little beauty came stumbling out of her shell, as they usually do, and everyone gasped, ‘cuz they’d never seen a blue dragon before.  Well, except for the Matromna’s, but she’s ancient!”  Maggie smirked.  “So, then she lurched about the birthing arena, crying and carrying on something fierce.  The girls who were there for the ceremony all tried to help her, but she ignored them and walked straight over to me!  She put her head in my lap, and began to thrum.”  Maggie’s eyes were wide and shining at the memory.  “And then she said her name,  _Magarath_ , and I imprinted.”

 

  
She started to giggle.  “The other girls were so mad, but the Matromna stood up and said  _‘The dragon chooses her rider’_  and everyone relaxed and the party began.  Poor Dagarel never did imprint.”  Looking up at Donna, Maggie said, “A dragon doesn’t reach full growth and adulthood for two years.  And even then, it usually takes another few before a queen is ready to mate.”  She continued to stroke her queen and croon soft words to her.  “Maga just seemed to be in a great hurry.  It was kinda scary, you know.”

 

  
She dropped her head and a blush began to tinge her cheeks.  “Oftentimes, when a queen mates, the riders feel their emotions and, erm, ah, may be, well,  _attracted_  to each other.  And while Glenarion is dead cute and all, I’m, uh, just not quite ready for that sort of thing.  I’m not really sure what to tell him.  I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

 

  
Donna smiled, thinking to herself how maturely Maggie was handling a very awkward situation.  They spent the afternoon talking about her family, living with that many brothers, and how it felt to be bonded to a queen.  Her youthful exuberance was contagious, and Donna quickly discovered that she enjoyed taking on the role of big sister and confidante.

 

  
That evening, she dutifully typed up a synopsis of her conversation and presented it to the Doctor, who read it over quickly and added it to the ever-growing pile of papers that surrounded him.  “This is really good,” he told her sincerely.  “The more information we have, the more likely it is we can find a solution.  I think the Pendragorans might be a little too close to the situation, and may not see things the way you, as an off-worlder, might.  A different perspective, you know.”

 

  
For the next three days, Donna went to the Volery and met with the other queen riders,  She especially wanted to talk with the two whose queens had most recently had still births.  Syrion and Jennarion both told similar tales.  The joy they felt when their queen mated and conceived was almost overwhelming.  They explained that a queen holds the egg inside her for two months, to give the developing hatchling a store of nutrients for the next stage.  At this point, she is directly connected to the hatchling and can feel everything the young dragon feels.  This is a critical step in development, as the queen implants all her knowledge and emotions to the hatchling.  She then lays the egg and incubates it with her body for the remaining three months.

 

  
Birthing a new dragon is actually a communal activity, Donna discovered.  Each of the queens takes turns sitting on the egg at various times, to give the mother-queen the opportunity to feed, exercise, and lay in the sunlight, which is essential to the health of a dragon.  So when the still births began to occur, it directly affected not only the mother-queen but all the queens, since they all had a hand in incubating the egg.  Donna could see the pain and sorrow that each of the queen riders still carried, and told silently renewed her vow to stop this from happening again.

 

  
Donna was having lunch with four of the queen riders.  Maggie took her meal in the birthing chamber, not wanting to be separated from Magarath any longer than necessary.  After she had left, Gwyntarion, one of the older riders, looked at Donna and said, “We are very concerned about Maggie.  She is so young, and we are afraid that, if anything happens with this birth, she will never recover.  We’ve never seen anyone bonded so quickly and so thoroughly as Maggie and Magarath have.”

 

  
Ellarion added, “Most of us here,” she gestured to include the other three women, “have been bonded with our queens for many years and have enough life experience to have handled the tragedy.  But Maggie.  She’s just so young!  And with Magarath being a rare blue, well, we’re frightened for them both.”

 

  
Syrion, the eldest, reached over and took Donna’s hand.  “We know you and the Doctor are trying to find out what is going wrong.  We just wanted you to know how much we appreciate it.”

 

  
Donna was touched by earnest sincerity of the women.  She swallowed a lump in her throat and replied, “We will do everything we can to make this right.”

 

  
After typing up her notes from the day’s experience, Donna left them on the table for the Doctor, who had not yet returned, and went to bed.  She slept fitfully, her dreams filled with images of weeping women and broken eggs.  When she awoke the next morning, she washed and dressed quickly, anxious to get back to the Volery.  She wasn’t sure what more she thought she could learn, but had a deep-seated feeling that it was important that she be there.

 

  
She walked out into the lounge and noticed at once that the notes she had typed were still on the table where she had left them the night before.  Walking over to the other bedroom door, she opened it and discovered that the bed had not been slept in.  ‘ _Did he stay at the lab all night again?’_  she thought.  The silly sod was going to make himself ill if he wasn’t careful.  She made a mental note to stop by the lab and have words with Doctor.

 

  
She had a hasty bowl of cereal and some juice, and grabbed her coat and bag, intending to call Korsarion to take her to the Volery.  As she started toward the door, the bell suddenly chimed.  “Korsa,” she said, smiling, “I was just about to call you....”  Her voice trailed off when she opened the door and saw, not the young dragon rider, but Kylarion, standing there.  “Matromna!” Donna said, automatically, catching herself before she went into a curtsey.

 

  
Kyla laughed and stepped into the room.  “Ya’ve been spending too much time with the riders, ya have.”

 

  
Donna regained her composure.  “Sorry, Kyla,” she smiled sheepishly. “What can I do for you?”

 

  
Kyla smiled and said to her, “I thought ya might take a little walk with me.  We haven’t really spent much time together.  How would you like ta meet the dragon that started all of this?”

 

  
Donna’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped.  “Really?  I’d love to meet Kylarath.  Thank you so much.”

 

  
“Well,” Kyla replied.  “Ya’ve met all the rest.  It’s only fitting ya meet the first.”  She walked back to the door.  “Come on then.”

 

  
The two women exited the guest quarters and started off across the courtyard.  Donna had expected to make for the front entrance where she usually met Korsarion for the flight to the Volery, but Kyla was taking them in a different direction.  Kyla explained that Kylarath’s cave was closer to her residence, and not actually in the Volery.

 

  
They walked in silence for a few moments, and then Kyla asked, “So, Donna.  I’ve been meaning ta ask ya.  How did ya come ta be travelling with Theta?”

 

  
Donna eyed the older woman carefully, trying to discern her motive for asking, but all she saw was genuine interest.  She decided that she would answer honestly and replied, “It was my wedding day, would you believe it, and on the way up the aisle, I was transported onto the TARDIS.”  She proceeded to tell her the entire story, including Lance, the Racnoss, and emptying the Thames.  “We’d saved the planet.”  She became quiet for a moment.  “He asked me to come with him then, but I turned him down.”

 

  
Kyla watched this extraordinary woman as she told her tale.  At this last revelation, she laughed.  “Did ya now?  I can imagine he didn’t take kindly ta that!”

 

  
Donna shrugged her shoulders.  “He was still grieving over a lost love.  And frankly, he  _did_  frighten me a bit.  But the deciding factor was my Dad.  He was ill, you see.  As much as I might have wanted to go, I couldn’t leave him.”  She grew pensive at the memory of Geoffrey Noble.  “It’s funny.  I never told anyone what really happened that day.  But before he passed, Dad said to me  _‘Donna, my girl.  You go out and find your dream.  Find that one thing that makes you the happiest and hold onto it for all you’re worth.’_   He didn’t know it, but he was talking about the Doctor.  At the funeral, as I said my goodbyes, I thought about what Dad had said, and I made up my mind to find that crazy Spaceman again and beg him to take me back!”

 

  
They had reached the main gate to Kyla’s lodgings and, instead of going in, they followed the wrought-iron fence to the back of the property.  Kyla smiled at Donna and said, “And so ya found him.  I expect that caught him a bit off guard.  He’s usually the one doing the pursuing.”

 

  
Donna laughed.  “Well, it was a bit of an unusual reunion, I must admit,” and she launched into the story of the Adipose and Matron Cofelia.  “So I just thought  _‘Look for trouble and you’ll find the Doctor’_ , that was my thought.  And I was right!  I’ll be honest,” she said to Kyla.  “I really didn’t give him much choice about taking me back.”

 

  
Kyla laughed.  “I don’t think he minded all that much, Donna.  He was always on the stubborn side, and wouldn’t have done it of he didn’t want ta.”  She stopped and, turning, she put her hand on Donna’s arm.  “Ya’ve done him a world of good, ya know.  He looks happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

 

  
Donna blushed.  She didn’t reply for a few seconds and then just said, “I try to be helpful.”

 

  
Kyla said thoughtfully, “Oh, ya’re helping more than ya know.”

 

  
They had reached a wooded area behind the main building, and Kyla led Donna down a well-worn path between the trees.  She explained, “Kylarath is advanced in years and can’t fly for any long distance.  She wasn’t able to get up ta the Volery anymore, so we built her an enclosure back here.  It keeps her closer to me, which is essential ta us both.”

 

  
They continued to walk a bit further and came to a large open area.  Scattered around the ground were large, flat rocks, suitable for sunning.  At the far end of the clearing was a sizable cave-like structure, which reminded Donna of the habitats of some of the big cats at the London Zoo.  It was large, but clearly smaller than the caves at the Volery.

 

  
Donna didn’t know why, but she felt a sudden reluctance to go any further.  Kyla, aware of her hesitance, smiled at her.  “There’s nothing ta fear, Donna.  I’ve told her who ya are and she is quite anxious ta meet ya.”  Taking her hand, she guided her to the mouth of the cave and called softly, “Cara.  Dulciamor.  I’ve brought a friend.”  She motioned for Donna to came closer.

 

  
Donna took a small step just inside the enclosure.  The cavern was lit by natural light streaming in from a series of skylights in the ceiling.  Even from the mouth of the cavern, she could see the magnificent creature that sat in the centre of the room.  She immediately dropped into a deep bow.  She then sensed a low rumbling similar to, but different from, the thrumming she had experienced with Korsarioth.  Straightening up slowly, she was startled to find that the queen had silently moved and was standing directly at her, her head not fifteen centimetres from her face, her eyes on a level with the Donna’s.

 

  
Kylarath was not as large as even the smallest queen Donna had already met, standing about the size of a large Shire draught horse.  The brilliance of her iridescent blue hide had faded somewhat with age, but there was no question that her bearing was as regal and imposing as befitted her status as the progenitor of her race.  Her eyes, an unusual shade of pale green-gold, were clear and aware, gazing intently into Donna’s.  She was mesmerized.  Kylarath tilted her head, first one way and then the other, studying her with an intensity that unnerved her.

 

  
Suddenly, the queen took two steps backward and lowered her head in a distinct bow.  At the same time, an overwhelming sense of peace washed over her, and she felt, rather than heard, her name breathed with great reverence:  _Dona_.  She turned to Kyla and stared, her eyes wide with shock.


	8. Ceremonies and Insights

“What was that?!” Donna sputtered, her eyes darting between the queen and the woman standing next to her. “What just happened? I don’t understand.”

 

Kyla put her hand on Donna’s arm in a soothing gesture. “It’s okay, Donna,” she said quietly. “There’s nothing ta fear.” She led the ginger woman over to a stone bench, and the two sat down, the queen lying with her head in Kyla’s lap.

 

Donna tried to quiet her jangled nerves. “Did she just say my name?!”

 

Kyla smiled. “In a manner of speaking. She said Dona. It’s from the ancient Latin language of your people. It means gift. Your name is derived from it. She was showing ya respect, acknowledging the gift ya are.”

 

Donna scoffed at this, in her usual self-deprecating way. “Me? A gift? Go on. I’m just a temp from Chiswick. I’m not anything special.”

 

Kyla said softly. “You, Donna Noble, are far more than that.”

 

Donna brushed this lavish praise aside and asked the more pressing question. “Kyla, I’m really confused. How did I hear her?”

 

Kyla stroked her queen’s head softly. “I’m not surprised. Kylarath is a powerful telepath.”

 

“Yes,” Donna replied, insistently. “But I’m not!”

 

Kyla smiled knowingly. “Are ya sure about that?” She thought for a moment. “I’m a bit puzzled, myself. Theta’s a rather strong telepath in his own right. ‘Tis a wonder he hasn’t noticed.”

 

Donna groaned. “Oh, lordy. That’s all I need. The bloody space alien getting inside my head, reading my mind. That would be just wizard! Please. Please don’t say anything to him.” She covered her face with her hands.

 

Both Kyla and her queen sensed Donna’s deep discomfiture, and each sought to soothe her in her own way, Kyla with a soft touch on the arm, and Kylarath with a gentle nudge of Calm to her mind. Donna was ready for it this time, so the sensation wasn’t as disconcerting as before.

 

Kyla looked at the ginger woman with deep affection, feeling toward her as a mother would a daughter. She admired her tenacity and intelligence, but most especially, her compassion. She sincerely hoped that Theta recognized and appreciated the gift he had in Donna.

 

The three sat for a few moments in silence. Finally, Kyla spoke up. “No worries,” she smiled. “Yer secret’s safe with us, Donna,” she reassured her. “Now, I know ya’ve been spending a lot of time down at the Volery, and I wanted to tell ya how much I appreciate the care and concern ya’ve shown the girls.” She absentminded stroked Kylarath’s head between her horns as she spoke. “As you can well imagine, Magarath and Kylarath, both being rare blues, have an unusual connection. It was my girl here who advised Maga to hold off telling her bond-mate about her egg.”

 

Donna looked at her, confusion clouding her eyes. “Maggie told us she had only just learned that Magarath was pregnant. I just assumed it was a recent development.”

 

“Actually, Maga is already over a month along. I think ya know that a queen holds her egg inside her for two months before she lays and incubates it. During that time, there’s an exchange of memories and wisdom, along with the nutrients and other chemical requirements, and an intense connection is made between queen and hatchling. In normal circumstances, this connection is shared with the queen’s bond-mate almost immediately.”

 

“And because of the recent tragedies, the queens thought it was better to keep Maggie away from that connection for a while,” Donna deduced.

 

“Exactly. They hoped to keep her shielded in the event that something happened ta the egg in the early stages. Once she passed the first month, and the connection with the hatchling was secure, she revealed her good news. But what that means is that Maga is due to clutch in about three weeks. And that seems ta be when the trouble starts.”

 

Donna pondered this information. Slowly, she nodded. “I get that. Maggie’s so young and I don’t think she has any inkling as to how serious this could be. She’s naturally riding the wave of her queen’s joy.” She stopped; something she couldn’t put a name to began to swirl around in her mind.

 

Kyla watched as Donna mulled over their conversation. She was fascinated by the quickness of her mind, and was once again mystified that this marvellous woman thought she was nothing special. She’d have to say a word or two to that thoughtless Time Lord!

 

They spent the rest of the morning talking about unimportant things. Kyla told Donna about the early days of settling Pendragora while Donna regaled Kyla with some of her adventures with the Doctor. Kyla was struck again with how strong and caring a person Donna was, and the inherent affection the two seemed to have for each other, and how totally oblivious they both were.

 

As the morning sun reached its zenith, Kylarath began to croon softly and Kyla stroked her head. “Well,” she said. “I guess it’s about time for this old girl ta take her afternoon nap.” As if on cue, the blue queen opened her mouth in a wide yawn. Kyla looked at Donna and her eyes twinkled. “And Kylarath’s tired too!” Kyla chuckled at her little joke and Donna smiled in return.

 

The queen slowly raised her head from Kyla’s lap and the two women stood. “Kyla,” Donna began. “Thank you so much for this. It’s been a lovely morning, just talking with you.” Turning to the blue queen, she bowed and said, “I am honoured to have met you, Kylarath.”

 

The queen once again brought her head close to Donna’s, and this time Donna heard, clearly and distinctly, ‘You are Loved, Donna Noble.’ And the queen stroked her snout gently against Donna’s temple. She blushed deeply and raised her hand to touch Kylarath’s cheek. Impulsively, she thought intently, ‘Thank you.’ The queen nodded and stepped back.

 

They walked out of the enclosure, leaving the blue queen to lie sunning herself on one of the rock formations. They spoke very little, each mulling over the day’s conversation. As they rounded the corner of Kyla’s home, Donna was surprised to see a young dragon rider standing at the gate. As they approached, he bowed to Kyla.

 

“Matromna,” he said respectfully. His eyes lit up as he acknowledged Donna. She walked over to him, immediately concerned.

 

“Korsa!” she exclaimed. “What’s happened? Is it Maggie?”

 

Korsarion replied quickly. “No! No, nothing like that.” He stammered a bit. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I, ah, just thought, erm, well.” He stared at the top of his boots for a moment. Clearing his throat, he blurted out, “Would you like to take a ride with me? It’s just, well, you’ve been cooped up in the lab or the Volery and you haven’t seen anything of our beautiful planet!” He let out the breath he hadn’t realize he was holding.

 

Kyla smiled to herself. “The boy is clearly smitten,’ she thought to herself. “That’s a lovely idea, Korsarion.” She was trying to put both him and Donna at ease.

 

Donna was taken aback at Korsarion’s sudden invitation. But she appreciated his thoughtfulness. “I agree. That would be lovely.” Turning to Kyla, she said, “Thank you again. I had a wonderful time.” On a impulse, she reached out and hugged the older woman.

 

Kyla laughed and returned the hug. Korsarion just stared at the sight of someone taking such liberties with his Matromna, but at the same time, his excitement over Donna’s acceptance of his invitation overshadowed everything else. The two women parted, and Donna joined Korsarion.

 

She slipped her arm through his and they walked away from the gate. “So, Korsa,” she began. “You’re going to show me the sights, yeah?” 

 

He grinned and replied, “I had hoped to. The Citadel is nice and all but, well, there’s so much more to Pendragora! As a rider, I get to see so many things the rest of the population only dreams about. And you appreciate things like no other off-worlder I’ve ever met, so I just thought you’d like to see some of the more out-of-the-way places.”

 

Donna was inwardly pleased at his assessment of her and she gave his arm a little squeeze. “Out-of-the-way places, eh? Like those you can only access by dragon, perchance?”

 

“Might be.” He gave her a slight smirk. “But seriously, Donna. You’re going to love this.” They reached the front gates where Korioth waited patiently in the clearing outside. At the sight of his rider, the dragon raised himself up and took a few steps toward him. Seeing Donna, Korioth began to thrum loudly and increased his speed. The other riders in the area burst out laughing at the young dragon’s antics, but nodded respectfully to Donna.

 

Donna dropped Korsarion’s arm and put out her hands to pat the dragon’s head. She was nearly bowled over when he came bounding up to her and butted his head forcefully against her. Korsarion caught her as she stumbled back and blushed with embarrassment.

 

“Kori! Behave yourself!! You’re not fresh out the egg, you know. Show some restraint!” he chastised his dragon.

 

“Oh, it’s alright,” Donna crooned to Korioth, stroking his snout and putting her arm around his substantial neck. “You’re just excited to see me, aren’t you, you sweet boy?” The dragon thrummed more loudly in response.

 

Donna turned back to Korsarion and said, “Oh, don’t fret. He’s just like a puppy, a giant, scaly puppy!” she giggled. “So let’s get on with it. I’m dying with curiosity.”

 

The rider reached back into the storage box and passed Donna the jacket and goggles. Before handing her the flying helmet, he placed in the palm of her hand a small device that looked like an overly-large bluetooth headset. At her confused look, he explained, “It’s a very short-range transmitter/receiver. The flight captains use them during training manoeuvres with new riders. The dragons can hear each other and communicate with their own rider, but this enables the riders to talk to each other directly as well.”

 

“Oh!” she cried. “Like a walkie-talkie!” Seeing his puzzled look, she explained, “We have something similar on Earth. It’s a two-way radio. You can walk and talk at the same time.” He smiled and nodded. “So we’ll be able to talk to each other while in flight?”

 

“Yes,” Korsarion replied. “It’s easier on the throat. No shouting!”

 

“Well, then. Let’s get going. Allons-y!!”

 

Donna had become so accustomed to dragon flight that the take-off no longer filled her with anxiety. Rather, the freedom she felt was exhilarating. Turning her head slightly, she looked back at Korsarion and asked, “So where are we going first?”

 

She heard his reply in her earpiece. “I thought we’d start with the Bathing Pool.”

 

“Bathing Pool?”

 

“Aye. It’s just a little place where the dragons go to cool off. There may be one or two around when we get there,” he smiled to himself, enjoying his private joke.

 

Korioth took them in a wide arc to give Donna a magnificent view of the Citadel, and then banked to the south-west. They flew over the Volery and the riders’ lodgings, and then wended their way over a more open landscape. The vista was like nothing she had ever seen before. Rolling hills of blue-green grass stretched for miles in any direction. She could see faint glimmers of what was probably rivers and bodies of water of some kind in the distance.

 

They took a sharp right turn toward one of these glimmers and the terrain began to rise slightly. Donna realized that they were headed for a cliff of some sort. As they approached, her breath caught at the sight of several dragons, green and gold and bronze and brown, flying around the cliffhead and swooping down out of sight. They joined the parade and followed the others over the rock face, and she was greeted with the sight of the most magnificent waterfall she had ever seen.

 

Water cascaded down the sheer face of the cliff, one hundred fifty metres at the least, throwing rainbows in the air, and collecting in a massive bowl at the bottom. This was no mere pool, as Korsarion had said. It was the size of a Scottish loch. And the ‘one or two’ dragons he thought might be there were actually a veritable herd, some fifty or sixty, splashing in the water, lounging on rocks in the sun, or flying and diving through the falls. The air shimmered as the sun glinted off of their multi-coloured scales.

 

Donna laughed with delight as one small green dragon burst through the waterfall and, tossing his head as he approached them, showered her with droplets. “Korsa,” she exclaimed. “This is incredible!”

 

The young rider beamed. “I thought you’d like it,” he replied. “We can return on the way back. But now, I think you should see the Crystal Caves.”

 

“Ooo,” she cooed. “Crystal Caves. That sounds wonderful.”

 

They made one last pass by the waterfall, and Korioth trumpeted. The air was filled with the sound of dragons returning his greeting, and Donna felt her skin turn to gooseflesh with excitement. They flew out across farmland and pastures of grazing livestock. She turned her head from side to side, not wanting to miss a thing.

 

It was just after they had past the last farm that she noticed some irregularity in the landscape. Small patches of discoloured grass and misshapen hedges began to appear in random places, the sight causing a faint niggling in the back of her mind. As they continued on, she spied a group of people off to her left at a distance. She inquired of Korsarion, “What’s going on over there?”

 

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “They’re performing a ‘Reclamation Ceremony’! I didn’t know they had one scheduled for today. This is really special. You want to watch?”

 

Donna had always been interested in experiencing new things, and traveling with the Doctor had only fuelled that fire. So she answered immediately, “Sure! What is it?”

 

“I’ll explain when we land.” He communicated his intentions telepathically to his dragon, and Korioth banked to the left and slowly descended. They landed on the grass, a respectful distance from the group, and dismounted. Donna could now see that they looked to be a company of religious men and women, judging by their formal robes and sashes. It reminded her of the midnight Christmas services she attended as a little girl.

 

Turning to Korsarion, she whispered, “What’s going on?”

 

“The ‘Reclamation Ceremony’. Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the clerics. She resisted, insisting that they shouldn’t disturb the obviously sacred moment. “Don’t be silly,” he countered. “They’ll be thrilled to meet you. Not many off-worlders take the kind of interest you have in our ways.”

 

Donna relented, because, if she were honest with herself, she had enjoyed everything she’d experienced so far on Pendragora and really was rather curious. She had no idea what a ‘Reclamation Ceremony’ was but was fascinated by the title. Letting herself be dragged over to the assembled ministers, she caught a whiff of a spicy-sweet fragrance, and realized it was coming from eight earthenware bowls set in a circle, the incense floating up, filling the air with its perfume. 

 

Korsarion called out as they approached, “Majestare Ortharet.”

 

The eldest of the ministers turned, halting his preparations. “Korsarion,” he answered. “What brings you out this far? We were just about to begin the ‘Ceremony’.”

 

Bowing with reverence, the young rider explained, “I was taking Miss Noble to see the Crystal Caves. As we passed, I saw you and thought, if it isn’t unseemly, that it would be good for her to observe this rite.”

 

The older man looked surprised and said, “Donna Noble? The Doctor’s Lady?” He walked over to her and bowed. “You do us great honour by your presence, my Lady. We know of the efforts you and the Doctor are making in our time of crisis.”

 

Donna thought about protesting his categorization, but felt reluctant to contradict him. She bowed in return and said, rather formally, “Majestare Ortharet. You are too kind. We are only doing what anyone would have done, under the circumstances.” She gestured toward the gathering of clerics. “I hope my presence here at your sacred ritual is not inappropriate, me being an off-worlder and all.”

 

“Nonsense, my Lady,” Ortharet assured her. “It is right and proper that you should be here for the ‘Reclamation Ceremony’, in light of the service you are giving to Pendragora and her dragons.”

 

Donna blushed at the praise and attempted to deflect it by asking, “What exactly is this ‘Ceremony’? I assume it has something to do with the dragons.”

 

Ortharet gestured for another of the clerics, a younger woman with the now-familiar copper hair styled in an elaborate series of braids, who carried a large covered bronze bowl. Ortharet introduced her as Majestara Vangaret, his daughter. “Four times a year, once for each new season, we thank the Great Mother for her bounty and for the continuing gift of the dragons.” He motioned for Vangaret to remove the lid on the bowl, revealing its contents. “We will take these shells from the most recently hatched dragons and, after crushing them and mixing them with special herbs and spices, we will scatter them, thereby returning them to the earth and the Great Mother, asking Her to reclaim them and renew her beneficence.”

 

As the Majestare spoke, that little niggle of the idea that she felt earlier stirred in Donna’s mind. “Do you always perform this ritual here?”

 

Ortharet replied, “No. We try to anoint as much of the land as we can. Farms, fields, village square. Today we are anointing this area of grassland.”

 

“So it’s just a random location anywhere on the planet?”

 

Ortharet eyed her cautiously. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

 

“I’m not quite sure myself,” she answered honestly. “Forgive one last question. Do you always use dragon shells? Every time?”

 

Majestera Vangaret replied, a little exasperated, “Of course! That is the whole purpose of the ‘Reclamation Ceremony’. To return to the Great Mother that which she has bestowed on us.”

 

Korsarion noticed the spark in Donna’s eye. Walking over to her, he asked, “What is it, Donna?”

 

She turned and smiled at him. “I’m not completely sure, but I think I may have an idea that will help the Doctor. I’m sorry, Korsa. I have to cut our daytrip short.” Turning back to the two Majesterae, she asked, in the sincerest tone she could, “I must beg a great favour. I mean no disrespect, but I’d like to take a few of these shells with me back to the Doctor. I believe they can help him in his research. I promise they will be treated with all the reverence they deserve.”

 

The assembled clerics were taken aback at her request. Ortharet and Vangaret leaned in and spoke quietly, while the others looked on. After a few moment, they turned back to Donna and Vangaret held the bowl out to her. She said, “We know you are honourable and are concerned with the welfare of our dragons. Take what you need. The Mother and the Great Gods are with you in this.”

 

Donna bowed her head, deeply touched at the trust they placed in her and the Doctor. She was determined to find the solution, and the notion that had been percolating was bubbling over. “Thank you,” she said simply and, taking out a clean handkerchief, picked out several of the largest pieces of dragon egg shell, thinking that the bigger pieces will give the Doctor more to work with. Pocketing the piece of cloth with its precious cargo, she turned to Korsarion and stated, “I have to get back. Now.”

 

Suiting up quickly, they mounted and Korioth took to the air. After two quick side stops, they landed outside the medical facility and, once again, Donna went tearing down the corridors, Korsarion running behind. She pulled open the door to the lab where she had found the Doctor previously, and strode purposefully over to him as he sat peering into a small microscope. 

 

He heard her approach and looked up, startled. “Donna!” he exclaimed. “What brings you here?”

 

She wasted no time. “I think I’ve found something.”

 

He immediately turned his full attention to her. “What? What is it? What have you found?” He was so frustrated with his lack of progress that he was ready to grasp at anything.

 

She pulled a stool over and joined him at the table. Looking at his eager face, she began to have doubts and to worry that she would disappoint him. But something kept pushing her on. She decided she was being foolish and began. “Doctor, remember when we first landed and we found that patch of discoloured grass?”

 

The Doctor stared at her, not understanding. “Yes,” he said warily. “What has that got to do with anything?”

 

She bristled. “Just let me get this out, please, before you dismiss it as rubbish!”

 

He was immediately chastised. “Sorry, Donna,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m just tired. Please. Go on.”

 

She could never stay angry at him for long, and she remembered his face and the way his shoulders slumped when he returned to their suite each night after spending long hours with no results to show for all his trouble. Reaching for his hand, she gave it a little squeeze. “Like I was saying. This afternoon, Korsa took me on an aerial tour of Pendragora.”

 

“He did?” the Doctor asked, slightly annoyed. He darted a glance at the young rider.

 

Oi! Spaceman! Focus!” Donna snapped, waving her hand in front of his face. Sheepishly, he turned back to her, a hint of colour staining his cheeks. “Better,” she said with a tiny smirk. She proceeded to tell him about coming across the Majestarae and the ‘Reclamation Ceremony’. “And then something hit me,” she concluded. “Those random patches of withered grass. What if it wasn’t so random? What if it had something to do with the scattered dragon shells?”

 

“What would make you think that?” Seeing her eyes narrow at him, he held up a hand quickly. “I’m not dismissing what you’re saying. I just want to hear your thought process!”

 

Donna visibly softened at his words. The fact that he was willing to hear her out meant a lot. “Well,” she began. “When I was talking with Kyla this morning, she said…”

 

“Wait!” the Doctor cried. “You were with Kyla this morning!?”

 

Donna rolled her eyes. “Bigger picture, Time Boy. Anyway, she took me to meet Kylarath and we were talking about the situation with the queens. She mentioned that the trouble didn’t start until after the eggs were laid. As long as the hatchlings were still inside the queen, they were fine. So, after hearing about the ritual and remembering the grass, I thought, ‘What if there’s something wrong with the eggs?’.”


	9. Solutions and Surprises - Part A

The Doctor stared at Donna for several seconds.  She was afraid that she had just uttered the stupidest thing he had ever heard and he was about to blast her for wasting his time.  Gradually, a smile emerged and he stood, grabbing her hands and dragging her up with him.  “Oh, you clever, clever girl!  That is bloody brilliant.  The eggs!  That’s just about the only thing we  _haven’t_  tested.”

 

  
Donna was enormously pleased that he thought she was clever and actually listened to her idea.  But her natural defence mechanism kicked right in and she scoffed.  “You would have figured it out.  It was only a matter of time.”

 

  
“Possibly,” he admitted.  “But time seems to be against us.  The egg is still inside that queen…”  He searched for the name.

 

  
“Magarath,” Donna supplied.  “Yes.  According to Kyla, she won’t clutch for another couple of weeks.  Hopefully, we can sort this all out before then.”

 

  
The Doctor went back and sat down, as he thought over what she had told him.  “They have already completed this ‘Ceremony’, I presume,” he asked Korsarion.

 

  
The young rider was surprised to be addressed.  “Oh, most likely, sir,” he replied.  “They were just about to begin when we left.”

 

  
The Doctor sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.  “Pity.  I would’ve loved to have gotten some samples before they were ground up and scattered.  Well, can’t be helped.  I supposed we could always try and scavenge what we can from the site.”

 

  
Donna glanced over at Korsarion and gave him a wink, unseen by the Doctor.  “Yeah,” she said solemnly, as she returned to her seat.  “That really would have been helpful, wouldn’t it?”  She patted his knee in sympathy, and breathed an exaggerated sigh.  “I guess it’s a good job then that I got  _these_  before we left, isn’t it?”  She reached into her pocket and produced the handkerchief containing the egg shells she received from the Majestarae.  Placing them carefully on the worktable in front of the Doctor, she sat back and folded her arms.

 

The Doctor’s eyes widened.  He stared at his companion, noting the satisfied look on her face.  “No,” he drawled, astonished.  She merely raised her eyebrows, smiling smugly.  He grabbed the cloth bundle and opened it carefully.  Seeing the collection of large shell pieces contained within, he looked over at Donna and grinned.  “Cheeky thing!”  He picked up one of the largest pieces, turning it over in his fingers.  “This is great.  Really great thinking, Donna.  You never cease to amaze me, you do.”

 

  
She smiled shyly.  Suddenly, she stood up and reached into her pocket again.  Pulling out another cloth square, she handed it to the Doctor.  “Oh!  I almost forgot.  We stopped on the way back and picked up some samples of the tainted vegetation.  Maybe you can find something in common between the two.”

 

  
He put down the egg shell and opened the handkerchief.  Inside was a large assortment of grasses, leaves and small branches.  Donna’s resourcefulness truly did amaze him, as he had told her.  He was about to comment again on how marvellous she was, but stopped himself.  He knew she was uncomfortable with praise, especially from him, and he was surprised that she hadn’t already bristled at his words.  So he contented himself with simply saying, “Donna, this will be a great help.  Thank you.  Both of you.”  He nodded to Korsarion, who bowed his head in respond.

 

  
He put on his glasses and retrieved the shell, peering at it carefully.  He sniffed it and, as was his habit, touched it to the tip of his tongue.  Korsarion threw a startled glance at Donna, who shrugged and made a  _‘You don’t want to know’_ gesture with her hands. He shook his head and said nothing.

 

  
The Doctor sat in silence for a few moments, his brow furrowed in concentration.  Finally, he held the piece of shell between the thumb and forefinger of each hand and proceeded to bend it, trying to break it in two.  It took an inordinate amount of pressure even to crack it.  “It’s too hard,” he said, almost to himself.

 

  
“What do you mean, too hard?  It’s an egg shell,” Donna questioned.

 

  
“That’s exactly right.  It  _is_  an egg shell.  And as such, it should be relatively easy to break.  This shell is much too sturdy.”

 

  
“So, what does that mean?”

 

  
The Doctor sat back, absentmindedly tapping the shell pieces against his lips.  His eyes narrowed and took on that faraway gaze that he got when he was trying to remember something he had forgotten.  Donna knew from experience that he could remain in this state for hours on end.  She quietly called his name several times before he came back to himself.  “Sorry!” he exclaimed.  “This just reminds me of something.  An experiment of some sort.  But from a really long time ago.”

 

  
Donna got up and walked over to where Korsarion stood, and retrieved a black satchel that sat on the floor next to him.  She brought it over and placed it on the work table.  The Doctor stared at it and then gave his companion a questioning look.  She smiled sheepishly and said, “On our way back, something popped into my head and I remembered about the bag.  The TARDIS obviously thought you would need this; she made a point to give it to you before she locked us out.  I reckoned there must be something of use in there, so we stopped and I got it from your room.”

 

  
He gave her a startled looked and she immediately realized the implication of her actions.  “Oh!  Doctor!” she cried.  “I didn’t think.  That was so inappropriate.  I should never have gone in your room without your permission.  I am so, so sorry!”  She put her hands over her mouth, her eyes filled with shame.

 

  
The Doctor ran his hand lovingly over the battered leather of the bag, his fingers lingering over the bronze letters.  “This is brilliant.   ** _You_**  are brilliant!”  He looked up and saw how upset she was.  Grabbing her hands, he tried to soothe her feelings.  “It’s alright, Donna.  There’s nothing to be sorry about.  I’m sure this will come in very handy.  And besides.  You are welcome in my room anytime.”

 

  
Korsarion was surprised at hearing this and stared at Donna and the Doctor, but neither of them seemed to notice the indecorous nature of his declaration.  He dismissed it as the strange ways of off-worlders.

 

  
Turning back to his satchel, the Doctor opened it and began to unpack its contents, exclaiming over long-forgotten instruments and other boyhood treasures buried in the corners of the bag.  Finally he removed a number of bound journals that were embossed in the bottom left corner with the symbols Θ Σ.  His eyes lit up and he placed them carefully on the work table.  There were fifteen of them, each the size of a composition book, but twice as thick.  Picking up the first one, he opened it and began to thumb through the pages slowly.

 

  
“What are they?” Donna asked.

 

  
“My old copy books, from the Academy,” he explained.  “I used to record all of my schoolwork in them, so I could review it and rework anything that I was unsatisfied with at the time.  Which was quite often, actually.”  (Donna thought to herself  _‘Some things never change.’)_  “I haven’t seen these in centuries!”

 

  
“Well,” she replied.  “Maybe something in there will jog your memory.  About that experiment you mentioned.”

 

  
“Yes!” he exclaimed.  “Exactly!”  Pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, he turned back to the journal and continued his perusal.

 

  
Korsarion watched for a few minutes and then went over to Donna and whispered, “I have to get back.  I want to see Maggie again and I am on watch duty this evening.”

 

  
Donna had been observing the Doctor intently and had forgotten the poor young rider.  Standing up, she walked him to the door and thanked him profusely.  “I had a lovely time today, Korsa, and I am sorry it had to be cut short.  Please thank Korioth for me.” 

 

  
The young man bowed his head.  “I will.  I hope we can resume our trip sometime soon.  You really should see the Crystal Caves!”

 

  
“I’ll make a point of it.  Now, go on with you.”  She pushed him toward the door.  “I don’t want to get you into trouble, with either the watch captain  _or_  your dragon!”

 

  
He smiled and bowed again in the direction of the Doctor, who was so immersed in his journals that he didn’t hear the young man leave.  Donna sat back in her chair and watched for a long while, marvelling at the intensity of his concentration.  Finally, she leaned over and patted his arm lightly, saying, “Oi!  Spaceman.  Need a hand with those?  My Nan always used to say:  _Many hands make light work_.”

 

  
He jumped slightly at her touch.  “What?  Oh.  Ah.  Donna,” he stuttered, looking up at her over the tops of his glasses, which had slid once again down the bridge of his nose.  “Are you still here?”

 

  
“Where else  _would_  I be, you big dumbo?!” she retorted.

 

  
He gave her a sheepish grin.  “Sorry,” he replied.  “Got a bit engrossed.  Did you want something?”

 

  
“I just wondered if I could help you go through them.”

 

  
“Oh, that would be lovely.  But,” he answered regretfully, “I’m afraid they’re all in Gallifreyan.”  He held out the journal he was holding for her to see the circles, dots and swirls, written out in a neat and precise hand.  “Why don’t you go back to the suite?  I’ll join you shortly.”

 

  
Donna stood up and stretched, discovering just how kinked her back had become, sitting for hours in the wooden lab chair.  “Yeah, I am a bit knackered,” she agreed.  “But don’t you stay here working too late.”

 

  
“I won’t.  I promise.” He got up and walked her to the door.

 

  
It was in the wee hours of the morning that the Doctor let himself into the suite and tossed his coat over a dining chair.  He was weary but satisfied with the day’s work.  He hadn’t realized how late it was until he saw the lights dimmed in the suite, and regretted that Donna wasn’t awake to share his news.

 

  
So he was caught completely off guard when her voice broke the silence.  “And just what time of night is  _this_  then?” she accused, in her best Sylvia Noble tone. 

 

  
He swung around quickly to see Donna in her dressing gown silhouetted in her bedroom doorway, her arms crossed and a stern look on her face.  He was concerned until he noticed the twinkle in her eye.  He decided to play along.  Dropping his eyes, he scuffed the toe of his trainer in the carpet.  “Sorry, Mum.  I was just hangin’ out in the lab with me mates, and I lost track of time.”  He had to suppress the grin that threatened to ruin the effect.

 

  
Donna burst out laughing.  “Oh, that’s just wizard!  A Time Lord losing track of time!”  She walked into the lounge.  “Come on, you prawn.  Want a cup of tea?”

 

  
The Doctor pulled out a dining chair and flopped down.  “I could murder a cup of tea!”

 

  
Donna plugged in the electric kettle and then opened a cupboard and retrieved a tin of chocolate biscuits.  As she readied the mugs and tea bags, she asked, “So, did you find anything interesting in those books of yours?”

 

  
“Actually, yes,” he replied.  “I located the notes on that experiment I was remembering.  We now know what happened to the previous hatchlings.”

 

  
Donna returned to the table, two steaming mugs in one hand and the tin of biscuits in the other.  “Doctor!” she exclaimed.  “That’s great!  You can fix it now, yeah?”

 

  
The Doctor took a sip of his tea, sweetened just the way he liked it.  “That’s just the problem, Donna,” he sighed.  “We know  _what_  is happening.  I just can’t figure out  ** _why_**!  And without the ‘ _why_ ’, I’m useless.”  He slumped in his chair in defeat.

 

  
Donna put down her cup and reached for his hand.  “Walk me through it, Spaceman.  Start at the beginning.  What did you find?”

 

  
He absently reached for a biscuit and considered her request.  He realized he had been relying on her insights and opinions for a long time, and was surprised to find that it did not bother him in the slightest.  For centuries, he had always been the smartest one in the room, and had gotten used to everyone looking to him for the answers.  Donna, however, had her own opinions and questioned him about his decisions, asking for explanations more often than any other companion had done.  This should have annoyed him to no end, but he found, rather, that he had come to count on her observations and even criticisms.  She usually saw something in a situation that escaped his notice.

 

  
“Well,” he began.  “You were right about the journals.  They were very helpful.  As I said, I finally managed to find the experiment I remembered.  It had to do with gas permeation and density levels of various organic substances.”

 

  
“You mean, like how air gets through a contact lens.”

 

  
“In a way,” he replied.  “More like how chicks breathe while still in the egg.  Or, in this case, dragons in the egg.”  He took another sip of tea and continued.  “Although they look solid, egg shells are actually porous.  Oxygen and carbon dioxide are exchanged through the shell.  Only something has gone terribly wrong with the eggs.  Specifically, they have become incapable of this exchange.”

 

  
Donna regarded him thoughtfully.  “So that’s what you meant when you said the shell was too hard.  It wasn’t letting in any oxygen.”  As she heard her own words, she gasped.  “But that means….”

 

  
“Yes,” the Doctor confirmed, sadly.  “The hatchlings slowly suffocated in their own shells.”

 

  
Donna put down her tea cup as tears quickly formed.  “That’s horrible,” she cried.  “You can do something, right?  You can fix it.”  She reached for his hand and held it.  “Doctor, you have to fix it!”

 

  
He took her other hand in his and squeezed them both.  Looking at her sadly, he shook his head.  “That’s just it, Donna.  Like I said, we know what is happening.  But I can’t for the life of me figure out what’s causing the eggs to harden like that.”  He sat back, defeated.  “I just wish I knew what changed ten years ago to start these mutations.”  He took another biscuit and chewed.

 

  
Donna wiped her eyes and sniffed away the lingering tears.  “Ten years ago?” she asked.

 

  
“Yes,” he replied.  “That’s when Kyla said the problems began.  I've gone through countless records.  There have been no atmospheric or meteorological changes.  No major disasters.  Nothing that I can point to that would cause this.”

 

  
He picked up his cup and drank the remainder of his tea.  Getting up to pour himself another cup, he noticed that Donna was unusually quiet.  Sitting back down, he peered at the look of contemplation on her face.  “Donna?” he asked.  “What is it?”

 

  
She shrugged.  “It’s probably nothing.”

 

  
He gave her one of his lopsided grins.  “Somehow I doubt that.  You’ve been spot on this whole time.  So what are you thinking?”

 

  
“Well, I was just remembering a conversation I had with Finntarel a while back.”

 

  
“Finntarel?  He’s the young man that runs errands and such at the lab, right?”

 

  
“Yes.  He was telling me about how he decided to leave farming and come to the Citadel for training in administration.  About ten years ago, he saw an alien ship land at his father’s farm because it was too large to fit in the regular cargo areas.  It just seems a little coincidental that an alien ship lands in an unusual spot around the time things start going wonky with the dragons.”

 

  
“Hmm,” the Doctor mused.  “I’ve never been a big fan of coincidences, myself.  Any idea what kind of aliens they were?  Did he mention a name, by any chance?”

 

  
Donna sat and thought carefully.  “Yeah, he did.  Began with an ‘S’, I think.  ‘Saurians’.  No, that’s not right.  There was a ‘L’ in there too.  ‘Slervians’.  No, not that either.”

 

  
The Doctor stared at her, his eyes narrowing.  “Could it have been ‘Silurians’?” he asked, cautiously.

 

  
She grinned.  “Yeah.  That sounds like it.”  Seeing his look of disbelief, she became immediately concerned.  “Doctor?  What’s wrong?”

 

  
“Wrong?”  He blinked and shook his head.  “No, not wrong.  In fact, it’s closer to right than I expected.”

 

  
“What do you mean?  What are these, what did you call them, Silurians?”

 

  
“Ah, well now.”  The Doctor immediately went into full “professor mode”.  “Silurians are Psionosauropodomorpha.”

 

  
Donna snorted, interrupting him.  “Hold on.  You’re making that up.”

 

  
“Would I do that?” he asked with a smirk.  She raised her eyebrows and said nothing.  He chuckled and said, “Point taken.  But in this case, I’m not.  They are a race of homo-reptilians.”

 

  
“Homo-reptilians?  Like part-human, part lizard?”

 

  
“Humanoid reptiles, yeah.  They are an interesting blend of the two.  They actually existed on Earth at various points in your history, mostly underground and undetected.  I hadn’t realized they’d ventured out this far in the galaxy,” he mused.

 

  
Donna realized he was dangerously close to going off on a tangent.  “Doctor, what did you mean that it was ‘more right’ than you expected?”

 

  
“Just that there might be some correlation.  Both Silurians and dragons are a form of reptile.  Maybe there was some kind of chemical interaction that caused the mutation of the eggs we’ve seen.”  He stood up and began to pace.  “I’ll have to get samples of the soil from that farm.  Find out what kind of crops are being grown there and if that has a bearing on any of this.”  He grabbed his brown coat and strode purposefully toward the front door, continuing to mutter to himself on the way.

 

  
He was stopped in mid-stride by Donna’s voice calling out forcefully, “And just where do you think you’re going?!”

 

  
He turned and stared at her.  “To the  _lab_?” he asked sarcastically, giving her a look that said  _‘Do you even have to ask?’_

 

  
She got up from the table and walked over to him.  “It’s three o’clock in the bloody morning!  Everybody’s in bed.  Which is where  _you_  should be.”

 

  
“I’m fine.  I need to get started on this.”

 

  
She held her ground, standing toe-to-toe with him.  “I’ve been watching you these past few weeks, and frankly, I’m worried about you,” she said anxiously.  “You’ve barely eaten.  You haven’t slept.  You’ve got dark circles under your eyes, and trust me.  It’s  ** _NOT_**  a good look on you.”  She reached out and took his coat out of his hand.  “You need to get some rest.  Everything will still be there in the morning.  Do this.  Please.  For me.”

 

  
He looked down at her and, seeing how deeply concerned she was, his hearts gave a funny little flip.  Stroking her cheek with his knuckles, he gave her a slight smile.  “Okay,” he said.  “For you.  Can’t have you getting all upset over me, now can I?”

 

  
He walked a few steps toward his bedroom and then turned back.  Donna remained where she was, still holding his coat.  “I’m not moving until I hear the click of that lock,” she said determinedly.  “See you in the morning, Spaceman.”

 

  
He laughed and continued on into his room.  “Sweet dreams, Earth Girl,” he called out, as he closed the door.

 

  
As Donna stepped out of her room the next morning, the first thing she noticed was the door to his bedroom stood wide open, the room empty and his coat gone.  She sighed.  She hadn’t been joking.  She really was worried about the Doctor.  He pushed himself too hard for too long, and didn’t have the sense to take proper care of himself. 

 

  
She made her way sleepily over to the coffeemaker, only to discover that it was already brewing, and there was a covered plate of pastries on the dining table.   _‘The silly prawn,’_  she thought, with a fond smile.  Coffee and pastries.  He did make an effort sometimes.

 

  
She poured herself a cup of coffee, sat down, and reached for a raspberry Danish.  It was then that she spied the note propped up against the plate, written in a hurried scribble:

                           D ~  
  
                     You were right.  I got four good hours of sleep, and I feel re-energized!  
  
                     I’m off to the lab.  If we’re lucky, by this afternoon we’ll have this sorted and a  
                      solution in the works.  
  
                     I hope the pastries make up for what a pain in the arse I can be sometimes.

  
                     Ever,   
                     Θ

  
It wasn't until she had a few sips of her coffee that she noticed the single letter at the bottom of the page,  She recognized the squiggly O from his medical bag, and remembered that it stood for  _Theta_ , the name Kyla called him.  She was shocked that he would sign his note to her in such a personal way.  And more than a little pleased, if she were honest.  She smiled to herself as she finished her breakfast, tucking the note carefully into her dressing gown pocket.

 

  
A while later, Donna made her way to the Volery on her own.  Knowing that he had had the late watch, she hadn’t bothered Korsarion, and actually enjoyed the walk, greeting many the people she had become acquainted with in the two months that she and the Doctor and been on Pendragora.  After their discussion last night, she was confident that he was well on his way to resolving the problem.  She would be sorry to leave this place, she suddenly realized.

 

  
She spent the day with Maggie, Magarath, and the other queen riders.  Korsarion popped in for a while, and Donna took him aside to apprise him of the progress that had been made.  He was visibly relieved, but agreed to not say anything to anyone until the Doctor had a definitive solution.

 

  
Late that afternoon, they were all in the birthing chamber on the second level.  Maggie, as usual, was engrossed with Magarath.  Ellarion and Gwyntarion were showing Donna how to create the elaborately stitched tapestries she had seen hanging in the Volery.  She was working on a small piece of cloth with several different coloured threads, weaving them in and out to produce a representation of the elaborate symbols that the Doctor had told her were of Gallifreyan origin.

 

  
She was so intent on her stitches that she didn’t immediately hear the disturbance outside the caves.  Suddenly, she heard her name reverberating throughout the Volery.  “DONNNNN—NAAAAAAAAA!”  She recognised the voice instantly, and, dropping her needlework, she ran to the cave mouth and looked down.  The Doctor was pacing at the Volery entrance, shouting for her at the top of his voice.  He was still in his ‘scientist tunic’ which was unbuttoned, rumpled, stained and slightly singed in places.

 

  
Pelting down the stairs, Donna ran across the stone floor and came to a screeching halt in front of the bellowing Time Lord.  “What is it, Doctor?  What’s wrong??  Are you hurt?  What’s happened?!?” she cried anxiously.

 

  
The Doctor laughed and grabbed her in a massive bear hug, lifting her off the ground and swinging her around.  She immediately smacked his shoulders.  “Put me down, you daft Martian!!” she barked.  “Have you lost your bloody mind?!”

 

  
Setting her down lightly, but not releasing her completely, he laughed again and answered, “We did it, Donna!  We found it!”


	10. Solutions and Surprises - Part B

Donna extricated herself and took a step back. Her eyes widened as she grasped what he had said. “You found the cure? Really??” She stepped back into his embrace and hugged him fiercely, oblivious to the fact that they had attracted quite a crowd. All of the queen riders and a few of their queens, and other assorted riders ventured out to see what the commotion was all about.

 

  
Suddenly, the Doctor and Donna noticed a hush had fallen over their impromptu gathering. They stepped apart and saw the riders all facing the entrance and lowering their heads in a deep bow, with whispers of  _‘Matromna’_  breaking the silence.

 

  
Kylarion strode gracefully toward the two, and the Doctor went to meet her. “Kyla. I’m surprised to see you here.”

 

  
“Well,” she replied. “I understand there’s cause for celebration.”

 

  
He looked at her quizzically. “How do you know that?”

 

  
She chuckled. “Ye’ll find, Time Lord, that there’s very little that goes on here that I don’t know about.” She looked around the cavern. “Dragons are a chatty bunch. Ya made quite an impression, dashin’ around with yer coattails flappin’!” Donna stifled a smirk and watched his cheeks flush.

 

  
“So,” Kyla went on. “What’s this great news?”

 

  
He bounced on the balls of his feet with excitement. “We finally identified the mutation causing the trouble with the dragon births. It was a series of misadventures and the alignment of random occurrences, really. Any one little thing out of order and it would never have happened. A  _‘perfect storm’_ , I believe humans call it.”

 

  
Taking his hand, Kyla led the Doctor out into the large area outside where the dragons often sunned themselves. There were padded benches along one side for the riders, and the three of them sat down, without noticing the sizable crowd that had followed them. “So.” Kyla said, patting his knee. “Tell me about this great discovery of yours.”

 

  
The Doctor grinned, turned to his right and put his arm around Donna’s shoulder. “It wasn’t me. Not really. If it wasn’t for the insights and observations of this amazing woman,” he said, pulling Donna closer to him, “I’d still be sitting in the lab, playing with my chemistry set!”

 

  
She blushed furiously and ducked out from under his arm. “Oh, go on!” she cried. “I’m sure you would have worked it out.”

 

  
“Eventually, maybe,” he replied. “But probably not in time to avert a disaster. You gave me what I needed. I've said it before, you are brilliant.”

 

  
“Just tell the story, you prawn!” She pushed at his shoulder and they laughed together.

 

  
He stood up and began. “After learning about the Silurian ship, I talked with Finntarel and went to his father’s farm. The field where the ship landed is used primarily for growing grain used to feed cattle. I took samples of both the soil and the grain, and identified an anomaly, a mutation, in the form of an additional enzyme. Now, this enzyme is not harmful to most things, so when the cattle ate the grain, they were unaffected. And when I say unaffected, I mean they showed no signs of illness or outward difference. They had, however, absorbed the enzyme into their musculature.”

 

  
Donna interrupted. “So what you’re saying is, this enzyme didn’t make  _them_  sick, but they passed it on. Kind of like carriers of a virus.”

 

  
He beamed at her and turned to Kyla. “Like I said. Brilliant! Anyway, these cattle were used primarily as feed animals for the dragons. Now it is interesting to note that, while the enzyme had no adverse effect on the cattle, it also had no effect on the drakes. It was only the queens, and only egg-bearing queens at that. That got me to thinking. There must be some kind of significant difference between the way dragons bear their young, and the Silurians.”

 

  
He began to pace, talking almost to himself. “I went back over my notes from the Academy about gas permeation and  _Voila_! I had done a comparison between various egg-laying species for that assignment.” He frowned a bit at the recollection. “That was supposed to be for extra credit! I don’t remember ever getting those points added to my record,” he pouted.

 

  
“DOCTOR!” Donna shouted, bringing him out of his reverie.

 

  
He started at the sound. “What?!” Seeing her glaring at him and noticing, for the first time, the crowd of other listeners, he grinned sheepishly and said, “Sorry. Side-tracked. Won’t happen again.” Donna rolled her eyes at that statement but said nothing.

 

  
“So. Well. Yes. As I was saying. In my notes, I found a study I did about a race of Silurians who, although their young were hatched from eggs, actually carried the eggs to term in pouches in their bodies, somewhat like Earth marsupials. The eggs were attached to the female by an umbilicus, and had no need to be porous, as all of the gases and nutrients were fed into the egg directly from the mother. The egg  _did_  have to be much stronger and harder, to prevent injury and damage as it was carried in the pouch.”

 

  
“So these Silurians were like reptilian kangaroos?!?” Donna blurted out.

 

  
The Doctor laughed heartily. “You could say that, although I would refrain from mentioning it to their faces,” he snickered.

 

  
“I’m not as daft as that, Spaceman,” Donna retorted with a grin. “But what does this mean with regard to the dragons?”

 

  
“We, meaning Rylarel, the other researchers and I, have concluded that the enzyme we found in the eggs and the soil only affects egg density. That’s why nothing and no one else has ever shown any adverse effects. The toxin only kicks in, so to speak, when an egg is formed. We think we can prevent this from happening ever again.”

 

  
Kyla spoke up for the first time during the Doctor’s speech. Standing and walking over to him, she said quietly, “Yer tellin’ me that ye’ve really found the cure?

 

  
He looked down at her fondly and nodded. “Yes. Rylarel and the others are currently working on synthesising an antidote that will reverse the chemical reaction and neutralise the toxin. We hope to begin inoculating the dragons and the cattle as soon as possible. Then we’ll create a solution that can be spread over the crops, farms and grasslands. Lastly, we’ll develop a vaccine for the Pendragorans, just to be on the safe side. By the end of the month, everything should be back to normal.” He stood proudly, as those closest to him began to cheer and chatter amongst themselves at his news.

 

  
Kyla reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand. “I knew callin’ ya was the right thing to do.”

 

  
He covered her hand with his. “As much as I hate to admit it, my TARDIS knew what she was doing when she decided to divert us.” He smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

 

  
Donna watched the two Gallifreyans and sighed ruefully. Wishing to leave them alone to their private moment, she began walking back toward the Volery, stopping periodically to repeat the gist of what the Doctor had revealed to those who had been unable to hear. She hadn’t gone far when she was grabbed, rather forcefully, by the arm and pulled back. She turned to smack the offender, ready to give a loud piece of her mind, only to find a very worried-looking Doctor, Kyla standing beside him smiling sympathetically.

 

  
“Donna!” he cried. “Where were you running off to!? I looked over and you’d just gone!”

 

  
She smiled weakly and said, “I was going to see Maggie. Tell her the good news, you know? Go on. You don’t need me.”

 

  
“Don’t be silly, woman!” the Doctor exclaimed loudly. “Don’t need you!? You’re the only reason I was able to suss this whole thing out! I should be shouting it to the mountaintops: DONNA NOBLE IS BRILLIANT!”

 

  
Donna’s face turned an unflattering shade of red, embarrassed both by his praise and by the attention he was drawing by his loudness. He was attracting quite the crowd and it just added to her unease. She dropped her head, closed her eyes and thought to herself,  _‘Oh, please! Just make him stop!!’_

 

  
Kyla started and immediately put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. He turned and looked at her, confused. She released his shoulder but didn’t say anything, just shaking her head and nodding in Donna’s direction. Seeing her eyes tightly shut and her lips a thin line, he realized his outburst of enthusiasm was upsetting her, and was instantly repentant. Moving his hand from her arm, he stroked her shoulder to calm her, and then lifted her chin.

 

  
“Donna,” he whispered softly, so only she could hear. “Please open your eyes. I am so, so sorry.” She warily looked at him and saw only sincerity and a bit of guilt. He smiled down at her. “I just wanted to give credit where it’s due. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He threw his arm casually across he shoulder and exclaimed, “Come on. Let’s go see those queens you’ve been telling me so much about!”

 

  
And so began a week of furious activity for the Doctor. He, Rylarel and the other scientists were determined to synthesise as much anti-toxin as they could as quickly as they could. They began the inoculations with the queens, since they were the most at risk. After much discussion with Tykorian and Annarion, it was decided that, since they were uncertain as to how the injections would affect an existing egg, Magarath would not receive her treatment until after she had clutched. The Doctor was working on a topical a topical solution that would be spread over the exterior surface of the laid egg, neutralizing the toxin and preventing premature hardening. The solution had to be administered as soon after clutching as possible, so the timing could prove tricky.

 

  
While the Doctor was working in the labs, Donna spent her days with Maggie and the queen riders, and Kyla joined them on a few occasions. She became increasingly adept at the intricate needlework they had shown her. She had never been that ‘domestic’, much to her mother’s chagrin, although she was a very good cook, of which the Doctor was a direct beneficiary. She was amazed to find that the activity of stitching and weaving was actually quite relaxing, and she felt a true sense of accomplishment when she viewed her work.

 

  
By the end of the week, the Doctor had finished the majority of the work necessary for the production of adequate amounts of the inoculations and the solutions to be disbursed over the farm- and grasslands. He came back to the suite late one night and flopped on the settee, untying his trainers and announcing that he was bone-weary and was taking the following day off to do nothing at all. “I’ve done all I can for the time being,” he said, with a deep but satisfied sigh.

 

  
“Well, it’s about time,” Donna responded. “You’ll work yourself to death, if you don’t watch out, you silly Martian. I suggest a long soak in the tub. Are you hungry? I can call down for some nibbles, if you like.”

 

  
He kicked his shoes off and came padding over to her in his stocking feet, a lopsided grin on his face. She was struck by how young he could look when he let go of the weight of the universe, something he very seldom did. He gazed down at her with a pleased glint in his eyes. “Whatever did I do to deserve someone like you, Donna Noble?”

 

  
Donna decided to keep things light, not exactly sure what was prompting his mood. “So, is that a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ on the nibbles?” she asked with a touch of sarcasm.

 

  
He laughed, knowing exactly what she was doing. “Thanks,” he replied, stepping away from her. “I think I’ll skip the nibbles and go straight for the soak. Lovely suggestion, that!” Picked up his shoes and started toward his bedroom. He suddenly stopped and turned back to her. “You know what I would really love?” She shook her head, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

 

  
Dropping his trainers, he retraced his steps. “Watch ‘Dragonflight’ with me tomorrow morning. We haven’t had the chance to do that, and I’d really like to share it with you. Then, we can lay about the rest of the day in our jimjams, if that’s what you want to do.” He took her hand and squeezed. “Please?”

 

  
Donna’s heart bounced around in her chest. He so confused her sometimes. Just as she was about to answer him, the mood was shattered by a furious pounding on the door to the suite. The Doctor bounded over and threw it open. Korsarion stood there, wide-eyed and frantic, panting from the exertion of racing from the outer gates of the Citadel. Donna hurriedly joined the Doctor at the door. “Korsa!” she cried. “What’s wrong?”

 

  
“I’m sorry to disturb you at this late hour, sir,” he replied, addressing the Doctor. “But Annarion told me to fetch you and Donna at once. Magarath is acting like she’s ready to clutch, and it’s about a week too early! And it rarely happens at night. Maggie is hysterical!!”

 

  
Already the Doctor was putting his shoes back on and grabbing his coat. “I’ll need to go to the medical building so I can get the inoculations,” he said quickly. Turning to his companion, he instructed her to go with Korsarion. “I’ll meet you at the Hatchery, Donna. If anyone can calm down a hysterical dragon rider, it’s you.” He grinned at her. “You’ve had enough practice, dealing with the likes of me for so long!” And, with a wink, he was off.

 

  
Donna grabbed her coat and pulled her hair into a messy tail with an elastic. She and Korsarion raced down to where Korioth waited for them. They mounted quickly and Korioth bounded into the sky before they were barely belted in. It took no time at all to get to the Hatchery. What Donna found there would remain in her memory for a very long time.

 

  
Magarath paced at the edge of the bowl of the birthing chamber, swaying her gravid body and lashing her tail back and forth while crying out in loud wails. Her rider was in an equally bad state. Surrounded by the other queen riders, Maggie sat and sobbed, babbling incoherently. The women around her tried to soothe her, talking in hushed tones and stroking her arms and hair. Nothing they did made any difference, for every time her dragon cried out, she screamed and grabbed her head, as if in pain.

 

  
Donna knew instinctively that Maggie was telepathically feeling the confusion and pain of her dragon and, because of her youth, she was ill-equipped to handle the trauma. Adding to the difficulty was the symbiotic nature of the relationship between the rider and her queen. Magarath was reacting in turn to Maggie’s distress, which compounded her own suffering. Each was building on the other until a firestorm of misery filled the cave.

 

  
Donna strode over and knelt down in front of the young girl, grabbing her face, forcing her to look at her. “Maggie!” she shouted. “It’s Donna! You have to calm down!” Caught off-guard by the commanding tone, Maggie stopped in mid-scream and stared at the ginger woman. “That’s better,” Donna continued. “Now listen to me. This is very important. Can you be quiet for a few minutes? I know it’s hard, with Magarath so upset. Can you do this for me, please?” Maggie nodded wordlessly. “Very good, sweetheart.”

 

  
Donna got up and sat next to the now sniffling but still visibly upset girl. The other women moved aside to give her space, but did not leave the cavern, in case they were needed. They watched Donna with awe, as she talked. She took Maggie’s shaking hands in hers and rubbed the backs with her thumbs softly. “Now, Maggie,” she spoke calmly. “It’s very important you listen to what I’m telling you. Magarath is in distress. We can all see that, and I know it hurts you to hear her. But she’s running on instinct right now, and not able to tell the difference between her pain and yours. You’re battering her mind the same way she’s battering yours. Do you understand?”

 

  
A small sob escaped Maggie’s throat. “Oh, Mags!” she cried softly. “I didn’t know! I’m so sorry!!”

 

  
Donna squeezed her hands to bring her back. “That doesn’t matter right now. The best thing you can do is to calm yourself, and send her soothing feelings of peace and encouragement. If you are calm, she’ll be calmer. And we need to get her to settle down so we can find out what’s going on with her. The Doctor is on his way and he’ll make sure nothing will happen to her. Do you trust him, Maggie? Do you trust me?”

 

  
“Yes,” Maggie replied tearfully, and took hiccupping gulps of air. “It’s just…she’s so upset and doesn’t understand what’s happening!” She started to shake again. “I don’t know how to help her!”

 

  
Donna put her arms around her and hugged her tightly, whispering soft words of support. She looked up at the other queen riders huddled together. “Can’t your queens talk to Magarath?”

 

  
“They’ve tried,” Gwyntarion answered. “It’s like she’s tuned everyone and everything out.” She shook her head and wiped a tear.. “We’re at a complete loss!”

 

  
Donna closed her eyes and sat still with her chin on the top of Maggie’s head, rocking her gently. To an outsider, they would have looked like a mother and daughter. Donna took a deep breath and thought,  _‘Oh, Magarath. Please don’t fret. Let the other queens help you. You’ll feel so much better if you just calm yourself.’_

 

  
After a few minutes, Syrion jumped up and cried out, pointing at the birthing chamber. Donna’s eyes popped open and she noticed at once that the horrible sounds coming from the blue queen had diminished. Running to the edge of the bowl, Maggie exclaimed, “She’s gone down into the birthing chamber! She’s ready to clutch!!” The queen riders joined Maggie at the edge and their queens took their places on the ledges in the inner bowl. Both Maggie and Magarath seemed more composed, but it was obvious that the clutching was imminent.

 

  
Now that the initial crisis had been averted, Donna became concerned that the queen, who seemed to be in an awful hurry, would lay her egg before the Doctor arrived and they wouldn’t be able to inoculate it in time.  _‘Doctor!’_  she prayed silently.  _‘Please hurry!’_

 

  
“I’m here, Donna!” the Doctor’s voice echoed through the cavern. Neither of them seemed aware that she hadn’t spoken aloud. “Hello, beautiful girl,” he crooned as he approached the birthing chamber and got his first glimpse of the blue dragon. “Aren’t you the loveliest thing!” He moved closer to the bowl rim, the syringe of anti-toxin in one hand and a pot of topical ointment in the other.

 

  
The queens around the birthing bowl began to make a low, rumbling sound in an accompaniment to the warble of the blue queen in the throes of clutching. All at once, the music of the dragons increased in intensity but not in volume, and Magarath rose on her hind legs and spread her wings out to their full extension. She craned her neck up and warbled again, this time a deep, guttural, primal sound. Drawing her wings back into herself, she wrapped them around her distended belly and squatted back down into the soft sand of the birthing floor.

 

  
The tension in the air was palpable. Everyone watched with anticipation and more than a little concern. The blue queen cried out once again, but this time it was a beautiful, light, exultant tone that was quickly taken up and harmonized by the other queens. Magarath’s belly rippled and, with a soft popping sound, she deposited her egg in the sand. It glistened wetly, a mottled blue and green, with touches of gold. She slowly sank down next to her egg, exhausted.

 

  
As soon as the egg appeared, the Doctor sprang into action. “Now!” he cried. “We have to get this ointment on the egg before it dries!” He quickly went over to the edge of the birthing bowl and began to descend the stairs cut into one side. He had barely reached the second step before Magarath sat up and turned her head toward him. She bellowed loudly and began to hiss at him, batting her wings furiously and encircling her egg with her massive tail. If Pendragoran dragons had been of the fire-breathing kind, he would have been burned to a cinder, with no hope of regeneration. He quickly back-pedaled up the stairs.

 

  
He was joined by Annarion and Tykorion, both of whom looked confused and worried. “We have to get the ointment on that egg!” he repeated. “Can the other queens distract her?” he asked the hatchery managers. “I’d hate to have to tranquilize her,” he mused. “I’m not at all certain how it would react with the anti-toxin I have to give her.”

 

  
Everyone’s attention was on the Doctor and the two dragon riders, so no one observed Donna slowly making her way down the steps of the birthing bowl. She stood on the third stair silently and just waited. Magarath turned her head at Donna’s approach and stretched her neck until she was at eye level with the ginger woman. They stayed that way a few seconds, and then the blue dragon gave an almost imperceptible nod. Donna smiled, turned and walked calmly back up the stairs.

 

  
She continued over to where the Doctor was rapidly spouting various options and just as quickly rejecting them. He took to notice of Donna until she reached over and put her hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Spaceman. Give them to me. I’ll do it.”

 

  
His head whipped around and he stared at her. “What?!” he exclaimed. “That’s absurd. It’s too dangerous.”

 

  
She simply smiled at him. “I’ll be fine. Just let me do this.”

 

  
“Absolutely not,” he reiterated. “Out of the question.”  Crossing his arms, he moved so that he was standing directly between her and the steps to the birthing bowl.

 

  
“She won’t hurt me,” Donna stated emphatically. “She trusts me.”

 

  
The Doctor looked down at her and scoffed. “She is an enormous beast being bombarded by a massive amount of post-clutching hormones. You can’t be certain of how she’ll react.”

 

  
“Yes. I  **can**!” she exclaimed.

 

  
“You saw how she reacted to  _me_ ,” he replied. “What makes you so sure she’ll be any different with  _you_?!” he asked, dismissively.

 

  
“Because, you arrogant arse,” she shouted. “She  **TOLD**  me!!’

 


	11. Celebrations, and a Little Bonding

The Doctor stared, his mouth gaping like a fish.  “But…but…how…you… **WHAT**?” he stuttered.  
  
  
“Listen, Doctor,” she snarled at him.  “We haven’t got time for this.  Just give me the flippin’ meds and get out of my bloody way!”  She reached down and grabbed the syringe and jar, and pushed past the gobsmacked Time Lord.  She strode purposefully down the steps and into the birthing bowl.

 

  
As she slowly approached the recumbent dragon, Magarath raised her head and turned toward Donna.  The two looked each other in the eye for a few moments, and then the blue dragon made a soft, melodic crooning sound and slowly uncurled her tail, giving Donna unencumbered access to the rapidly-drying egg.  Donna stroked her flank in thanksgiving and settled down to begin her ministrations.

 

  
The Hatchery was absolutely silent, with every creature - dragon, Pendragoran and Time Lord alike - holding their collective breath, watching the ginger woman performing her task.  She took her time and covered the surface of the large egg, smoothing the thick ointment in even strokes, making sure to coat every millimetre.

 

  
When she had run out of the ointment, she wiped her hands on her trousers without a second thought, and moved on to the queen herself.  Donna had assisted the Doctor and Annarion when they had given the other queens their inoculations, so she was aware that there were only a few areas on the queen’s body that were not covered in thick scales where she could inject the anti-toxin.  She was nervous about this part of it, but she refused to let anyone, especially the Doctor, see her falter.

 

  
 _‘Magarath, sweeheart,’_  she thought to the queen.   _‘I’m going to need a little help here.  Can you show me the best place to give you this injection?  I will try very hard not to hurt you.  But this is extremely important.’_

 

  
Magarath nodded.   _‘I trust,’_  she replied to Donna.  She craned her head and turned her neck to the side, exposing the underside of her jaw.   _‘Here.’_

 

  
Donna smiled and ran her hand softly over the smoother, less scaled skin of her lower jaw.  Taking the alcohol wipe the Doctor had wrapped around the syringe, she cleaned and prepped the area.  Then, removing the cap from the syringe, she tapped it and expertly pushed a tiny amount of the solution out to disburse any air from the needle.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she said, her voice loud in the silence.  “It’s going to pinch a bit.”  She slowly pushed the needle into the muscle and pressed down on the plunger, injecting the serum into the dragon.  Magarath cringed but made no sound, and Donna ran her hand gently over the queen’s head, crooning softly to her.

 

  
The blue queen lay back down with her egg and slowly closed her eyes.  Donna gathered the remains of the medications and walked back up the steps.  When she reached the Doctor, she thrust the empty syringe and jar into his hands.  He started to say her name but she quickly cut him off.  “Not now, Time Boy,” she stated dully, and walked away.

 

  
He found her thirty minutes later, sitting alone in the dark on one of the benches in the sunning area outside the Volery.  He watched her for a while, and what he observed tore his hearts to pieces.  Donna sat in the middle of the bench, her shoulders slumped and her head bowed, gorgeous ginger hair falling down, concealing her face from his view.  He walked over slowly, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets, and waited a moment for her to acknowledge him.

 

  
“What do you want, Doctor?” she asked from behind the curtain of hair.

 

  
He cringed at the dejected tone of her voice and the formal use of his title.  “May I?” he asked simply, giving her the option to tell him to sod off.  She raised her head and looked at him, her eyes filled with dejection, anger, sadness...and shame.  It was this last that concerned him the most.  He could tell she had been crying.  She didn’t say anything in response, but merely moved over to give him room to sit.

 

  
He desperately wanted to grab her hands and tell her everything was going to be alright.  But he knew instinctively that she needed to keep some emotional distance right now.  So he just looked her in the eye and asked, “How long have you known?”

 

  
She blinked a few times to clear the unshed tears and twisted the handkerchief in her lap.  “When I was a little girl,” she began slowly, in a whisper the Doctor had to strain to hear.  “I used to, well,  _know_  things.  I remember, I was probably about three, and I came home from playing at a neighbour’s house and announced that Rowland, the neighbour’s cat, was going to have babies and asked could I have one?  Well, Mum tried quietly to tell me that Rowland was a boy cat, and boys don’t have babies.  I told her she was wrong and stomped my foot, insisting I wanted one of Rowland’s babies!”

 

  
The Doctor smiled at the thought of a tiny Donna standing up to her mother.  “Well, as you can image, that didn’t go over very well.  She smacked me and told me to stop being foolish, and sent me to bed without supper.  It only made things worse when, a few months later, Rowland, or should I say  _Rowena_ , had a litter of seven kits.  Mum was very angry and wouldn’t let me have one, no matter how much I cried and told her I had been right.”  She saw the Doctor trying to hide a smirk.  “Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best way to go about it, but I was  _three_ , for god’s sake!”

 

  
He was relieved to see her smile slightly and said nothing, hoping his silence would encourage her to continue.  “It happened fairly often when I was a kid,” she went on.  “It’s not like a heard voices or anything barmy like that.  I would just get these feelings, you know?.  I could tell if someone was upset or angry, even when they tried hard to disguise it.  I knew the first time my Nan got sick, long before she went to the doctor.  In fact, I was the one to persuade her to go.  I was twelve, if I remember correctly.”

 

  
She unconsciously squeezed the cloth in her hand.  “Thinking back on it, I’m sure it must have scared Mum.  She’s not the most flexible person in the world,” she said, drawing a snort from the Doctor.  She smacked him lightly on the knee, which eased the ache in his hearts a bit.  “She likes things neat and tidy and, well, I was never either of those things.  Anything she couldn’t explain was either a mistake or a lie.  I learned to not say anything in front of her.  I tried so hard to get her approval that, gradually, I think I suppressed whatever it was to the point that it no longer happened.”

 

  
The Doctor inwardly seethed at the treatment Donna received from her mother, but wisely said nothing.  Donna could tell he was controlling himself and she was grateful.  “I hadn’t had an ‘episode’ for a very long time.  And then...” she stopped and swallowed.

 

  
At this point, he couldn’t restrain himself any longer.  He reached over and took her hands in his.  “It was the Oodsphere, wasn’t it?” he asked simply.  She nodded.  “I should have guessed.  It was far easier than it should have been to open your mind to the Ood.”  He looked down at her, his eyes confused and a little hurt.  “Why didn't you tell me?”

 

  
Donna abruptly pulled her hands from his and turned away, moving farther down the bench.  “What?” she barked.  “And let you see just what kind of a freak I really am!?!”

 

  
The Doctor gritted his teeth.  Sylvia Noble had so much to answer for.  He desperately wanted to enfold Donna in a warm, tight hug but settled for gently touching her shoulder and pulling her back toward him.  “Freak?!” he exclaimed.  “Is that how you see yourself?  Oh, Donna.  Don’t you see?  You have a gift!”

 

  
Donna’s head shot up and she stared at him.  “That’s what Kylarath said to me!”

 

  
“What?  When?”

 

  
“That morning I spent with Kyla.  It was the first time I actually  _heard_  someone again.  She called me  _Dona_ , which Kyla said meant gift.”

 

  
“Ah,” he chuckled.  “Astute creatures, these dragons.  I’m not surprised they took to you so readily.”  Looking at her tear-streaked face, he said seriously “Donna, you never need to hide anything from me.  Why didn’t you tell me after the Oodsphere?”

 

  
She dropped her eyes, not wanting him to see the fear she felt.  “You already know more about me than anyone else, as it is.  I...” she stopped, ashamed of her thoughts, afraid of hurting his feelings.  He stroked her upper arm in support.  “I didn’t want you in my head!  Alright?!” she cried.

 

  
At that, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her to his chest as the tears began to fall again.  “Oh, Donna,” he whispered.  “I would  **never**  enter anyone’s mind without permission, and especially not my best friend!”  He stroked her hair soothingly.  “ If you like, I can teach you how to set up shields, so that you only hear what and whom you  _choose_  to hear.  And you can prevent  _anyone_  from seeing into your mind, until and unless you want them to.  Even me!”  He lightly kissed the top of her head.  “Sound good?”

 

  
“Thank you, Spaceman,” came the muffled reply.

 

  
They sat that way for some time, until Donna gently pulled away from his embrace, and blew her nose noisily.  They were both caught off guard when a voice broke the silence.  “So.   _This_  is where the two of ya got to.  I have a cavern full of dragons and riders wantin’ to thank ya.”  Kyla stepped out of the darkness.  “Come on, now.  Dragons are an impatient bunch!”

 

  
Donna hastily wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.  “You go,” she whispered.  “I must look a fright.”

 

  
The Doctor grabbed her hand and stated emphatically, “Not a chance.  I’m not going in there alone!  Besides,” he whispered.  “You look lovely.”  He dragged her up off of the bench and they made their way back into the Volery.  Kyla watched them thoughtfully, with a small smile, as they walked hand in hand.

 

  
As soon as they reached the second level, they were greeted by cheers and applause from the riders and a beautiful melody crooned by the dragons.  Donna immediately stepped behind the Doctor in embarrassment.  Before they took another step, a small red-headed blur came streaking in their direction, squealed and latched herself onto Donna’s arm.

 

  
“Oh!  Donna!  Oh!  Thank you so much!  Maga told me what you did for her, what you said to her,” Maggie exclaimed.  “You’ll be here for the Bonding, right?”  She looked at Donna expectantly.  “Oh, please!!  You  _have_  to be here for the Bonding!!”

 

  
Donna was overwhelmed, literally and figuratively, at the young girl’s outburst.  She glanced over at the four men who were trailing along behind her.  She recognized Korsarion, and assumed the other three were the remaining brothers.  Donna asked the dragon rider, “Bonding?  What does she mean?”

 

  
Kyla stepped over to the two of them.  “It’s the ceremony at the time of hatching, when the new dragon choses its bond-mate and they imprint.”

 

  
Donna didn’t want to disappoint Maggie, but she knew, now that the problem had been solved, the Doctor would be impatient to be on his way.  It was hard but she replied, “Maggie.  Sweetheart.  That would be lovely but, well, we’ve already been here a lot longer than we had planned and, the dragons aren’t in any danger.  So it’s time we were on our way.  I’m so sorry.  But I’ll make sure to come by and say goodbye before I leave.  Right, Doctor?”  She looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him.

 

  
He looked from his companion to the anxious young queen-mate.  He was struck at the resemblance and had a flash of what Donna may have looked like as a young woman, an image he tucked away in his mind for later review.  “How long before the egg hatches?” he asked calmly.

 

  
“No more than a fortnight,” Kyla replied.  “Especially in the case of a first egg.”  She had a suspicion as to what was in his mind, and she was inwardly pleased.

 

  
“A fortnight?” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck, in what Donna knew was an exaggerated fashion.  “I don’t know.  We  _have_ been here quite a while.”  He pursed his lips and frowned in deep thought.  “On the other hand, we really should see this process to its logical conclusion, don’t you agree, Donna?”  He looked over at her and gave a surreptitious wink.

 

  
“We really should,” she agreed.  “Make the final reports more complete, yeah?”

 

  
“Exactly!” he stated.  “After all this, we can’t have incomplete reports.”  He tapped his forefinger against his chin.  “Well,” he drawled.  “I supposed we could hang about for another couple of weeks.  In fact, other than the labs and our suite, I really haven’t seen much of this planet.  I understand there are Crystal Caves that I really shouldn’t miss!”

 

  
The walls of the cavern echoed with Maggie’s squeal of delight, and she impulsively threw her arms around the Doctor’s waist, hugging him tightly.  He burst into charmed but slightly embarrassed laughter, and patted the young girl’s shoulder, a little self-consciously.  Donna looked over at him and mouthed,  _‘Thank you.’_   He nodded and smiled warmly,  _‘You’re welcome.’_

 

  
True to form, the Doctor did spend some considerable time the first week in the labs, making final notations and documenting every step that had been taken.   But Donna managed to drag him away on occasion for some rest and relaxation.  He joined her and Korsarion for their trip to the Crystal Caves, Setarion and Serioth kindly transporting him.

 

  
The Caves were are as remarkable Korsarion had said.  The walls shone with dancing sparkles of light, and chimed softly as small droplets of water fell from cracks in the ceiling.  Donna was entranced and the Doctor spent as much time gazing at her as he did admiring the geological structures.  He  _did_ , however, manage to give a rather detailed and colourful lecture on the various methods of crystal formation, until Donna clamped her hand over his mouth and dragged him out of the cave, much to the amusement of the two dragon riders.

 

  
Donna and Korsarion revisited the Bathing Pool, while the Doctor took a tour of the manufacturing facilities.  He asked a very surprised Finntarel to accompany him, and introduced him to the head of shipping.  After a brief bout of self-consciousness, the young Pendragoran joined in the discussion of how to make improvements on the landing docks and cargo berths.  After a while, the Doctor quietly backed out of the room, leaving Finntarel and the managers to their own devices.  He had no doubt that the young man had served his last day as a lab gofer.  He walked back to the guest quarters, whistling happily, rather pleased with himself.

 

  
All in all, it was a very relaxing two weeks for Donna and the Doctor.  She continued to work on the needlework that she had begun with the queen riders.  She wove a cover for her grandfather’s telescope, figured with stars, moons and planets.  She stitched a light scarf for her mother with delicate flowers in shades of pink and mauve, colours Sylvia was particularly partial to.  She was secretly hoping it would prove to her that she wasn’t completely useless.

 

  
The Doctor finally managed to cajole her into getting up at dawn to see Dragonflight, and the sight so overwhelmed and delighted her that she readily repeated it several more times.  They would stand together at the railing of the balcony, Donna wrapped in a blanket, with the Doctor’s arm around her shoulder, hugging her tightly to him, partially to keep her warm in the pre-dawn chill, and partially because, well, he just liked it.

 

  
By the second week, Donna could tell he was beginning to get a little twitchy.  He had never stayed in one place as long as this without a major crisis, or being imprisoned.  One morning, she watched him eye the coffee maker with a predatory gleam while moaning about how long it was taking to brew, and spouting off ideas for improvements in efficiency and brew quality.  She swatted his hand as he reached to grab the back of the machine.

 

  
“You know what?” she stated.  “You’re bored, is what you are.  Can’t sit still for five minutes, can you?’  She poured the now brewed coffee and set a cup in front of him.  “You’d be a right disaster to play chess with.”

 

  
He looked over at her, his cup halfway to his lips.  “You play chess?” he asked, astonished.

 

  
“Well, don’t sound so surprised, you prawn!  I used to play all the time with my Dad.  Was pretty good at it, too.”  She took a sip of coffee.  “Mum wouldn’t let me join the Chess Club in secondary school.  Said it wasn’t ladylike.”

 

  
He gazed at her thoughtfully.  “Fancy a game with  _me_?” he asked, hopefully.  “If we can find a set, that is.”

 

  
She smiled, proud of herself for her little ploy.  The silly Martian.  He was so easily diverted.  “Promise you won’t pout when I beat your skinny little Time Lord arse?” she asked, saucily.

 

  
He grinned manically.  “Well, we’ll just see about  _that_ , missy!  And, just to be clear, I  **don’t**  pout!”

 

  
And so began the great test of wits, pitting Human against Time Lord.  The Doctor was able to procure a beautiful set, dragons versus riders, made of multi-coloured stone that was unusually cool to the touch. They played every night after supper, and he was pleasantly surprised to find she was a formidable opponent.  She was clever and cunning in her moves, and caught him off-guard on several occasions.  They laughed and argued, and both enjoyed the mental challenge.  Donna was chuffed at being able to hold her own with the Doctor, and he was equally pleased to find another layer to his companion.

 

  
One morning toward the end of the second week, they had taken up their game from where they left it the night before.  They were engrossed that they were startled when they heard a bell peeling outside in the courtyard.  Kyla had advised them that this bell would toll when hatching was imminent.  They jumped up from the dining table and quickly made their way to the Hatchery, where a large crowd had already begun gathering.

 

  
Donna noticed a flurry of activity taking place in the open area adjacent to the Hatchery.  Several large tents were being erected around a massive pavilion.  People in all manner of livery were scurrying back and forth, with tables, chairs, boxes and bins.  But what should have looked like chaos actually seemed quite orderly.  From one of the large tents, smoke billowed.

 

  
They were met at the entrance by Lysarion, who had been sent to show them to the seats that had been reserved for them.  He led them down into the Birthing Bowl to nearly the bottom, where a small platform with chairs had been set up.  Kyla was already seated, and there were three empty chairs, two on her right and one on her left.  Lysarion took his place at his great-great grandmother’s left, while the Doctor took the seat directly to Kyla’s right, leaving the other chair for Donna.  The rest of the space was taken up by other Pendragoran dignitaries.

 

  
There was another platform directly opposite them but there were no chairs.  A group of young men and women stood around, whispering self-consciously amongst themselves.  Around the rim above were more chairs and groups of dragon riders milling about.  Sprawled out between the two platforms on the floor of the bowl, Magarath lay with her tail again curled protectively around her egg.

 

  
Kyla leaned across the Doctor and addressed Donna.  “The young people over there are the potential bond-mates.  Since we won’t know until it hatches whether the hatchling is male or female, both sexes are represented.  Their families are seated above them, in those chairs at the edge of the bowl.”

 

  
Donna turned toward Kyla, leaning against the Doctor’s knees.  “What’s going on outside?” she asked.  “I assume it has something to do with the hatching.”

 

  
Kyla replied, “It’s for the celebration.  We always have one after every hatching.  Ya have to come.  Yer the guests of honour, ya know.”

 

  
The Doctor stood up suddenly, startling the two women.  He looked a bit exasperated and said, “Shift over, Donna.  As much as I love ginger hair, I don’t care to try and watch the proceedings through two heads of it!”  Donna looked up at him and then at Kyla, and burst out laughing.  The older woman muffled a decidedly girlish giggle and, taking his hand, gently pulled him back down into his seat, patting him on the shoulder in a motherly fashion.  He gave Donna a withering look and she choked back her laughter.

 

  
Before they could continue their conversation, however, the cavern was filled with a deep hum, almost more felt than heard, that had been steadily building while they had been talking.  Kyla pointed to the centre of the bowl floor, where Magarath had uncurled her tail and moved back slightly from the egg, which was rocking ever so slightly.  As the hum increased, the melody was taken up by the other dragons, who were perched at the entrances to the surrounding caves, and the egg moved back and forth more deliberately.

 

  
As the onlookers watched, the egg began to vibrate and a faint tapping sound could be heard.  The tapping grew louder and more distinct, and tiny cracks began forming on the surface.  The intensity of the humming was palpable.  Finally, as everyone held their collective breath, a small piece of shell popped off and the tip of a snout appeared.  The egg rocked more forcefully as the hatchling inside chipped away and the opening widened.  The curve of the beak-like snout emerged and, with an energetic shake, the egg cracked in two and the hatchling sat on one of the halves, blinking in the light and mewling.

 

  
The crowd as one gasped as they observed the newly hatched dragon.  It was a female, which was reason in and of itself for celebration.  But what caused the assembled crowd to whisper excitedly was the colour of this female.  She wasn’t a true blue, like Magarath or Kylarath, but a beautiful dark teal.  Her scales glittered with shades of green and gold, giving her an iridescent shimmer when she moved.  She continued to sit in the half shell and cry softly, until Magarath nudged her over with her snout.

 

  
The hatchling rolled off the shell and began to waddle around, stumbling to and fro before lurching toward one side of the bowl.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t the side where the potential bond-mates stood huddling on the platform.  Instead, the young dragon made a faltering beeline in the opposite direction, coming to a tumbling halt in front of Donna, looking up at her and making a plaintive mewling sound.

 

  
Donna immediately stepped off the platform and knelt in front of the hatchling.   _‘Hello there, little one,’_  she ‘said’ to her.  The dragon perked up at Donna’s voice in her head and croon questioningly.   _‘No, no, my sweet girl.  Not me,’_  Donna replied, shaking her head.   _‘You must find your true bond-mate.’_   She stroked her head between the tiny horns, and gently turned her around.   _‘There you go,’_  she gave the hatchling a tiny push in the direction of the other platform.   _‘Go on now, love.  She’s waiting for you.’_   The hatchling took a few halting steps, then turned her head to look back at the woman still kneeling on the ground.  “Yes,” she said aloud, laughing.  “ _That_ way!  Shoo!”

 

  
The young dragon lurched forward once again and, seeing the platform, stopped a moment and tilted her head first one way, then the next.  Suddenly, she straightened up and began to lope purposefully toward the group of young women assembled there, picking up speed as she went.  When she neared the platform, she trumpeted, a tiny sound in comparison to a full-sized dragon, but a trumpet nonetheless.  One of the young women, a tall, slender girl of about twenty-three, with chestnut brown hair and beautiful caramel-coloured eyes, stepped forward to the edge of the platform and cried out, “She says her name is Jennerath!”  Then she jumped off the platform and hugged the little blue-green dragon tightly.

 

  
Kyla left her seat and walked to the middle of the bowl.  “The dragon has chosen,” she proclaimed formally, in a voice surprisingly loud, which reverberated around the cavern.  “From this day forth, Jennellia shall be known as Jennerion, a queen mate.  Let us acclaim and show our approbation to the new pair!”  The cavern erupted in cheers and applause, of which Jennerion and Jennerath were totally oblivious.

 

  
The Doctor stepped down and reached out to help Donna to her feet.  His face told her that he had some inkling of what had transpired, and that he heartily approved.  The warmth of his smile and the gentleness of his touch made her heart flutter a bit, and she bent down to dust the dirt off her knees, to hide the blush she knew was tinging her face.  “Thank you,” she said simply, straightening up and looking at him once she had regained her composure.

 

  
His smile softened and he shook his head slightly.  “You are truly magnificent, you know that?”

 

  
The blush she had tried to hide resurfaced, and she smacked him sharply in the arm.  “Aw, go on, you daft Martian!” she exclaimed.

 

  
He laughed and assisted her back up onto the platform, where they were soon joined by Kyla.  “Thank ya both,” she said immediately.  “This day would never have come without yer help.”

 

  
The Doctor waved his hand absently.  “Glad we were able to find a solution.  The extinction of these beautiful creatures would have been a great loss.  Now,” he started to say but Kyla cut him off sharply.

 

  
“I know that look, Theta,” she stated, eyeing him narrowly.  “Yer thinkin’ of packin’ up and boltin’ out of here, aren’tcha?”

 

  
Before he could respond, Donna grasped his arm tightly and declared, “Not until tomorrow.  We  _will_  be at the celebration later.  Right, Doctor?!” she asked pointedly, while digging her fingernails into the fabric of his coat.

 

  
He frowned at her, saw her look of fierce determination, and thought better of refuting her.  “Of course, Donna,” he answered with a quick, slightly forced, smile.  “I wouldn’t dream of missing a party!”

 

  
Kyla smirked at both Donna’s taking command of the situation, and the Doctor’s ready capitulation to her wishes.  She sighed.  If only these two would  _talk_! 

 

  
After saying their goodbyes to Kyla and the other dignitaries, assuring them once again that they would certainly see them later at the celebration, the two time travellers walked back toward their quarters.  Donna stated her intention of ‘having a bit of a lie down’, while the Doctor claimed he needed to ‘clear up a few things’ back at the lab.  She made him swear on the heart of the TARDIS that he would make it back in time for the party.

 

  
It was later than he had planned when the Doctor finally stepped through the side entrance to the main Pavilion.  It was already quite full, and it looked like a musical ensemble was setting up.  There were long tables to one side, loaded down with a dishes and platters and tureens with all manner and variety of food and drink.  There were liveried wait-staff with trays of starters and glasses of wine. 

 

  
He looked around at the assembled guests and eventually located Kyla, seated on a raised dais.  He snagged a couple of glasses of a dark plum wine and made his way through the small crowd.  As he approached, she looked up and gave him a bright, if somewhat cheeky, smile, and gestured for him to take the seat next to her.  He stepped up on the dais and handed her a glass, and sat down.

 

  
“Quite the party.” he observed drily.

 

  
“We usually have a small gathering for the family and friends of the new riders,” she replied.  “But I thought, since it had been so long since we had reason ta celebrate at all, a much bigger to-do was in order.”  She sipped her wine slowly and looked over at him.  “I was thinkin’ ya might not make an appearance.  You  _are_  a guest of honour, ya know.”

 

  
He sighed.  “I hate this sort of thing.  But I couldn’t disappoint Donna.  I promised I’d come by after I finished in the lab.”

 

  
“Well, she’ll be pleased to see ya kept that promise.”

 

  
The Doctor was scanning the gathering, trying to spot his companion, which was made all the more difficult by the preponderance of ginger hair.  It was usually so easy to find her in a crowd; her hair generally shone out like a small supernova.  Kyla noticed his confusion and pointed to a group of women standing together near the bandstand, talking animatedly.

 

  
At first he was sure she was mistaken, But just then, one of the women laughed and he recognized the timbre as uniquely Donna’s.  He peered at the group again and realized he was staring right at her without recognizing her.  She was dressed in a formal Pendragoran gown in a rich forest green with long, wide sleeves, and belted with a dark brown leather girdle embossed with Gallifreyan symbols.  Her hair had grown quite long in the two months they had been on the planet, and was now plaited into a thick braid that fell down the middle of her back, and was interweaved with ribbons of varying shades of green, tied at the ends with tiny bronze bells that, with his superior Time Lord senses, he could hear tinkling with her every move.

 

  
 _ _‘Dear god,’__ he thought to himself _, ‘ _she is **stunning!** ’__

 

  
Just as he was about to call out to her, the band began their first set, a moderately brisk gavotte, and he watched as a tall young man in full rider livery walked over to Donna, bowed deeply, and put out his hand.  She giggled and, at the urging of the other women, put her hand in his, and he led her away to the dance floor.

 

  
The Doctor watched as the rider showed Donna the steps, which she quickly learned, and then they joined the other couples.  He felt a strange unease, an odd gnawing in his stomach, at seeing his companion twist and twirl in the arms of another man.  She wasn’t a petite woman, but she was remarkably graceful and light on her feet, going up on her toes and gesturing with her arms as the dance demanded.  Observing her, the way she was dressed, her grace, the swing of her braided hair, brought back memories of a cottage in an orchard, and a lifetime long gone past.

 

  
Kyla had been watching the Doctor out of the corner of her eye.  She sipped her wine and remarked casually, “Young Korsarion is quite taken with yer Donna.”

 

  
Her voice broke him out of his reverie.  “That boy is  _way_  out of his depth,” he snorted.  “Donna would eat him alive and still have room for afters!”  He gave her a lopsided grin.  ‘Reminds me a lot of  _you_ ,” he said softly, still watching Donna dance.

 

  
“Oh, does she now?  And how is that?” Kyla asked, innocently.

 

  
“Well, she's beautiful.”  He smiled and sipped his wine.

 

  
“Flatterer!”  She swatted at his arm and laughed.

 

  
“It’s not flattery if it’s true!”  He snickered, but a moment later continued in a more serious vein.  “She’s smart.  Rassilon, she’s smart.  You saw that.  But I just can’t seem to make her believe me when I tell her how brilliant she is!”

 

  
Kyla nodded and looked over at him.  “Well,” she said.  “Maybe that’s why yer TARDIS locked the two of ya out.  Ta give Donna a chance to shine.”

 

  
His brow furrowed as he pondered her words.  Pulling at his ear, he agreed.  “That’s a distinct possibility.  And shine she did.  I would never have been able to produce the cure without her.”  He drank some more of his wine.  “By the way, don’t let her catch you calling her that.”  Kyla looked at him quizzically.  “You called her  _‘my Donna’_.  She’s nobody’s  _anything_!  She’s an independent woman, with her own mind and her own opinions!”  He laughed at the thought.  “That’s another way you’re alike.  She stubborn!  She never lets me get away with anything, that one!”

 

  
He turned back to watching where Donna continued to dance.  She had changed partners and was now coupled with Lysarion, Kyla’s great-great grandson.  Almost to himself, he continued, “She keeps me honest, in check.  She grounds me, and supports me.  ”

 

  
“And ya love her,” Kyla stated simply.


	12. Plain Truths amid Fond Farewells

“Oh, yes,” he breathed, not realizing he had spoken aloud.  Seeing Kyla’s lips twitch into a small smile, he immediately began to backtrack and clarify.  “What?  No!  I mean….well….yes, but not….it’s just….”  He ran his hand over his face and sighed.  “It’s complicated.”

 

  
“Oh, don’t be daft,” Kyla replied, dismissively.  “Ya love her.  What’s so complicated about that?”

 

  
He shook his head.  “You don’t understand.”

 

  
“Then enlighten me.”

 

  
He sighed again, deeply.  He knew she would not let it rest until he explained.  Not looking at her, his eyes still on the graceful form of his companion who was now part of a group engaged in a rather intricate folk dance, he began slowly.  “When I first met Donna, I asked her to come with me.  And she turned me down.  She wasn’t ready and frankly, looking back, I probably wasn’t either.  I had just lost a dear friend and hadn’t dealt with it yet.”

 

  
He took a sip of wine before he continued.  “But before she went, Donna said something that startled me.  She told me to find someone, that I needed someone to keep me from going too far.  And then I met Martha.  Lovely girl.  But see, Martha wanted something from me that I wasn’t able to give her.  And I hurt her.  Deeply.”  He lowered his eyes and gazed into his glass.  “I regret that.”

 

  
Kyla sat and listened silently.  She knew instinctively he would proceed when he was ready.  She drank slowly and watched the dancers.

 

  
Finally, the Doctor recovered from the painful memory.  He continued his story.  “I travelled on my own a while, not really up to dealing with other people on a day-to-day basis.  But then Donna sought me out.  She actually went looking for me!  And  _found_  me!!  It was amazing, really.”  He smiled at the thought.  “Anyway, after a bit of an adventure, she kind of invited herself on board.  And, while part of me leapt at the chance, another part was afraid I was so overjoyed to have her back in my life that I’d bollocks it all up.  Donna hadn’t had the best of it in her social life and I, well, let’s just say I had some.... _issues_.... with relationships.  So, coward that I am, I told her I just wanted a mate, a  _friend_ , someone to share adventures with.”

 

  
He paused, steeling himself against the tide of emotion that his next admission would evoke.  “And she  ** _vehemently_** agreed.  Said she wasn’t having any of ‘that nonsense’.  She wanted nothing to do with this ‘long streak of alien nothing’, she called me.”

 

  
He stopped and swallowed, trying to push down the lump that had formed in his throat as he remembered that day.  “So you see.  Even if I did…. _feel_ ….something, and I’m not saying I do, it wouldn’t matter.  She’s not interested.  She just wants to be friends.  And she is.  She is my friend, my very best friend.  I haven’t had a best friend in, well,  _centuries_ , and I  **will**   **not**  do anything to jeopardize that!”

 

  
“Theta,” she chuckled softly.  “Are ya blind as well as daft?!  Haven’t ya seen the way she looks at ya?”

 

  
The Doctor shot her a sharp glance sideways.  He couldn’t bring himself to believe what she said could be true.  “I can’t take that chance,” he stated flatly.  “It’s too big a risk.  I would rather have a part of her in my life than none at all.  I won’t scare her off.  I can’t.”

 

  
Kyla could tell that there was nothing more to be gained by pursuing this further.  She wisely decided to take a different tack.  Finishing the last of her wine, she put the glass down and said casually, “Well, at least go dance with the girl.”

 

  
She was startled to see his eyes grow cold and his lips tighten.  “I don’t dance,” he stated flatly.

 

  
“What?  Never?!?” she asked, dumbfounded.

 

  
“No,” he replied.  “Not really.  Not like that.  And especially not with her.”

 

  
Kyla turned to him and cried, “Aw, Theta.  What  _happened_  to ya?”

 

  
He rounded on her and snarled.  “You know  ** _exactly_**  what happened to me!  You left!!!”

 

  
She shook her head.  “I had to.  Ya know that.”

 

  
“No, I don’t.  I don’t know anything of the sort.”

 

  
“But I wrote to ya.  Didn’t ya get my letter?”

 

  
“Oh, yes,” he laughed derisively.  “I got that pathetic excuse for a goodbye.  Didn’t you know it would tear me apart!?  Not seeing you again?”  He leaned in closer to her and cried, “I was going to ask you to  _marry me_!!”

 

  
She reached up and touched his cheek.  “I know.”

 

  
He sat up abruptly, and she dropped her hand.  “What??  You knew??  Then why?  How could you leave?”

 

  
She gave him a sad smile.  “I had to.  I told you that.”  Reaching for his hand, she continued.  “Suppose.  Just suppose, that somehow ya’d been able to convince yer parents,  ** _and_  **the High Council, to let you, the eldest son of a prominent Time Lord family, marry the fruit girl.  Then what?”

 

  
He looked at her, confused by the question.  “We would have been  _happy_?” he asked sarcastically.

 

  
“Perhaps.  Ya would have finished the Academy for certain, probably with honours.  We would have married and had the requisite number of children allotted to us.  Eventually, ya would have taken yer father’s seat on the Council.  Maybe even become President.”  He huffed, thinking about the irony of her words.  “But you would have been just Theta.  And I’m sorry.  I don’t mean ta be cruel.  But the Universe didn’t need Theta.  The Universe needs the Doctor!”

 

  
This was the last thing he expected to hear her say.  He pulled his hand away and clenched his fists.  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.  The Doctor?” he scoffed.  “No one needs the Doctor.  I've done terrible things, Kyla.  Monstrous things.”

 

  
She reached out to him again.  “I know what ya’ve done, Theta.  I know about Gallifrey.”

 

  
He stared at her, wide eyed.  “How?”  It turned his stomach, knowing that she was aware of his failure and unpardonable actions.

 

  
She shook her head.  “It’s not important.  I know ya did what had to be done.  And that no one else  _could_  have done it.  Ya stopped the War and kept all existence from being snuffed out.  Think, Theta.  Think about all the planets ya saved, the people ya’ve helped.  Look around ya.  Look at ‘em all, the riders and the dragons.  What would have happened ta them if ya hadn’t come?  And Earth.  Ya love that planet, I know ya do.  How many times have ya saved them from invasion?”  She moved closer and said softly.  “And what about Donna?  What would have become of  _her_ , if she had never met the Doctor?”  She cupped his cheek again and whispered, “Don’t ya see?  It was always bigger than just Theta and Kyla.  I said ya had a destiny.  And this is it.”

 

  
He gazed deeply into her eyes and saw nothing but care and concern.  He reached up and covered her hand.  “Will it ever be my turn to be happy, Kyla?” he asked mournfully.

 

  
Taking his hands in hers, she smiled softly and said, “Happiness is a lot closer than ya think.  Ya just have ta be willin’ to take the risk.”

 

  
He was saved from having to respond to this by the sudden appearance of Donna, who rushed over to where the Doctor and Kyla sat.  She was slightly out of breath and her face was flushed from the exertion of dancing.

 

  
And he thought she had never looked more beautiful. 

 

  
She curtsied with a grin to Kyla.  “Incredible party!” she enthused.  “Absolutely fantastic!  And the music is amazing!  And the dancing!!  Thank you so much.”  She turned and faced the Doctor.  “Oh, Doctor, you made it!  I’m so glad!” she exclaimed.  “I wasn’t sure you would.”

 

  
He laughed and replied, “I promised, didn’t I?”

 

  
“Yeah, well, I know how wrapped up you get.”  She grabbed his wine glass and took a drink, flashing him a wide grin.  “Have you eaten yet?”  She didn’t even let him answer before she dragged him out of his chair.  Turning to Kyla, she grinned and said, “Sorry!  But this silly git would forget to eat if I didn’t keep shoving food in front of him!”  She then proceeded to tow him across the floor toward the buffet tables.  Kyla’s laughter rang out behind them, and she watched with a rueful smile and a shake of her head, praying that her friend would open his eyes (and his hearts) and see what was right in front of him.

 

  
They spent the remainder of the evening nibbling on the delectable food that Dallaria had prepared and sipping the wonderful pomegranate wine, watching the dancing.  Donna tried to coax the Doctor onto the dance floor, but he was polite yet quite firm in his refusal.  She knew how stubborn he could be, and sensed that there was more to his reluctance, so she gave up after a few tries and just remained by his side, swaying to the music.

 

  
Since she knew that the Doctor would want to leave in the morning, she said her goodbyes to the queen riders, taking Maggie aside for a private, if tearful, conversation.  She told the young girl she would never forget her, and promised they would return to visit when they could.  Donna also sought Dallaria out to thank her for her hospitality and was surprised when the cook pressed something into her hand.  It was a small book bound in green dragon hide.  Donna opened it and a smile slowly spread across her face.

 

  
“It’s all the old traditional recipes I could remember,” Dallaria stated.  “I thought you could use them to fatten up that young man of yours.”

 

  
Donna didn’t even try to disabuse her of the notice that the Doctor was her ‘young man’.  She knew from experience that people never believed them when they denied the assumptions about their relationship.  She threw her arms around the older woman and hugged her.  “Thank you so much,” she exclaimed.  “I’m sure he’ll appreciate your kindness.  He does love his food!”

 

  
Finally, as the festivities began to wind down, Donna and the Doctor took their leave of Kyla and dragon riders, stating their intention to return to his ship in the morning.  Kyla assured them she would have dragons ready to take them back to the hill on which the TARDIS stood.  “Hopefully, she’ll let ya in, this time,” she smirked.  The three of them laughed and the Doctor and Donna made their way out of the pavilion.

 

  
They walked back toward their quarters in silence, lost in their own thoughts.  When Donna stumbled slightly, the Doctor instinctively took her arm and wrapped it around his, and they continued, arm in arm, Donna leaning slightly into his side, and the Doctor smiling to himself.

 

  
They awoke early the next morning and watched ‘Dragonflight’ one last time.  They stood in their usual positions, Donna wrapped in a blanket and the Doctor slightly behind her, his arm across her shoulder.  She leaned into him, absorbing his warmth and feeling the comfort of his solid chest.  As dawn broke and the dragons filled the sky, she sighed.  “I’m really going to miss this place,” she said softly.

 

  
Without thinking, he kissed the top of her head, pulled her in closer, and replied, “We’ll come back.  I promise.”

 

  
She turned her head and grinned at him.  “Good to hear, Sunshine,” she smirked.  “Since I already told Maggie we would!”

 

  
After a quick breakfast of coffee and pastries, Donna finished her packing and set about checking the suite, making sure nothing was being left behind.  She had carefully stowed the needlework she had made for her family and gathered her suitcases, stacking them near the door along with the Doctor’s two satchels.  She was just about to call down to the front desk, when the door chime rang out.  Opening the door, she was surprised to see both Brillaria and Haldarel, the young woman fairly bouncing with excitement.

 

  
“We’ve come to see you off,” she exclaimed.  “We both begged for the privilege!”

 

  
Haldarel stood quietly, trying to maintain a more reserved demeanour.  “We are to help you with your bags, my Lady.  And to escort you to the landing area where the dragons await to take you to your ship,” he stated.

 

  
Donna stifled a grin at the young man’s formality.  “Thank you both for your assistance,” she responded in kind.  “We won’t be but a moment.”  She walked back into the lounge and called out, “Doctor!  They’ve come for us.  Are you ready?”

 

  
The Doctor walked out of his room, his overcoat unbuttoned.  Donna caught a glimpse of something white underneath and frowned.  “What have you got on under your coat, Time Boy?”

 

  
He flushed a little and quickly reached for the top button.  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Donna cried and trod over to him, stopping his hand.  She moved the fabric aside and stared.  “Oh, my god.”

 

  
He grabbed his coat front from her hand.  “What?” he asked innocently.  “It’s my scientist tunic.  They told me I could keep it.  It’s cool!”

 

  
She huffed.  “It’s not cool.  It’s filthy.  And it’s scorched!”  Seeing the sheepish but disappointed look on his face, she relented.  “Oh, alright.  Maybe I can get the TARDIS to clean it up and repair it.  Now, come on.  We shouldn’t keep everyone waiting.”

 

  
Haldarel and Brilliaria insisted on carrying their bags for them, and led them out of the guest quarters and into the courtyard.  It had the makings of a lovely day, bright sun, fluffy clouds, warm breezes and the smell of spring in the air.  As they exited the main gate of the Citadel, they were surprised to see not two but three dragons awaiting their arrival.  Korsarion and Setarion ran up to take their luggage from them to stow in the storage compartments on Korioth and Serioth. 

 

  
The third dragon was Lyrioth, and beside him stood his rider Lysarion, and someone they didn’t expect, but should have.  Kylarion walked over to the two travellers and, noting their amazement, smirked and said, “Ya didn't think ya’d get away that easily, now did ya?”

 

  
The Doctor grinned.  “Never crossed our minds!” he exclaimed.

 

  
After a quick farewell to Brillaria and Haldarel, they all quickly geared up and mounted.  The dragons took them on a roundabout flight, giving them an aerial tour of Pendragora, one last look at the planet they had worked so hard to save.  They were amazed at the improvement they could already see in the landscape from the solutions the Doctor had prepared.  The discoloured patches were smaller and less frequent.

 

  
All too soon, they arrived at the base of the hill on which the TARDIS stood.  It had been two months since they had last seen her, and the Doctor breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of her.  Although he had never really been without psychic contact with her, he was glad to have physical proximity again.

 

  
They had barely touched down, when Donna deftly dismounted and threw her arms as far as she was able around the massive neck of her dragon.   _‘Oh, Korioth!’_  she thought.   _“Thank you so much!  You and Korsarion were so wonderful to me.’_   The dragon began to thrum loudly and Donna laughed to feel it against her body.  One word echoed strongly in her mind:  _Loved_.  She hugged him again and replied,  _‘I love you too, big guy!’_

 

  
She turned back to his rider and handed him her flight gear.  Korsarion grinned at her and said under his breath, “That’s not what he meant, you know.”

 

  
Donna smiled at him and said, “Sorry.  I didn’t catch that.”

 

  
“Nothing,” he replied, shaking his head.  Reaching back into the storage compartment, he took out a large bundle and handed it to her.

 

  
“What’s this?” she asked.

 

  
“Just a little something from Maggie and the queens.  To thank you for all you’ve done.”

 

  
Donna removed the paper wrapping, revealing a wooden box inlaid with strips of Mother of Pearl, copper, silver and other coloured metals, making the intricate shapes that she now recognized as Gallifreyan script.  She ran her finger over the figures and looked up at Korsarion, her eyes slightly damp with emotion.

 

  
The young dragon rider smiled.  Pointing to the top set of shapes, he said, “This is your name.  And this,” pointing to the second set, “says ‘Dragon Friend’.  Open it.”

 

  
Donna flipped up the bronze latch and gasped.  Inside she found pieces of fabric, silks and cottons, and a variety of threads and yarns in every colour and weight imaginable, everything she would need to continue the needlework that the queens had taught her.  She was touched and impulsively threw one arm around his neck and hugged him tightly.  He laughed to hide the flush that tinged his cheeks, and he hugged her back.

 

  
After a few moment, she stepped back and wiped her eyes.  “Tell them all that I will never forget you, any of you.  With every stitch, I will be reminded of each one of you and this amazing place.”

 

  
She put the box down gently on her suitcase and touched his cheek.  “Korsa, you are a very handsome young man, and a great dragon rider.  Any woman would be thrilled to have you as a mate.”  She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “You may want to spend some more time with your sister.  Something tells me a certain new queen might not be adverse to your attentions.”

 

  
Korsarion stared at her, not quite believing what he was hearing.  “Jenne?  You think she likes me?”

 

  
Donna smiled broadly.  “Oh, I think the chances are quite good.”

 

  
While Donna and Korsarion conversed, the Doctor and Kylarion were saying their own goodbyes.  For a long moment, they just stood and looked at each other, the Doctor not quite sure what he wanted to say.  Finally, Kyla broke the silence.  “Theta,” she said simply.

 

  
The Doctor took a deep breath and smiled ruefully.  “At least this time I get a proper goodbye, Kyla.”

 

  
She shook her head and put her hand on his shoulder.  “I know I hurt ya in the past.  And I’m sorry.  But I don’t regret a minute of the time we had back then.”

 

  
“Neither do I.”

 

  
“And I’m glad I sent that message, draggin’ ya here against yer will.”

 

  
He smiled more broadly.  “Me too.”  He reached out and pulled her into a tight hug.  “I missed you so much for so long.  Thinking you were dead nearly destroyed me.  Now, at least, I know you are safe and happy.”

 

  
They hugged for a few more moments and then stepped away.  Kyla placed her hands on his hearts.  “There’s a lot of room in there, ya know.  Ya’ve got two hearts.  Makes sense ya should be usin’ ‘em.”

 

  
“Kyla,” he warned.

 

  
“I’m asking ya to think about it, that’s all.  Humour an old woman.”  She grinned at him, but became serious almost immediately.  “Ya deserve ta be happy too, Theta.  And it’s so much closer than ya want ta see.  Take a chance.  The result may surprise ya.”

 

  
“Kyla, please.  I can’t,” he cried.

 

  
“Just think about it.  It can’t hurt anything to  _think_ , can it?”

 

  
“I don’t know…” he waivered.

 

  
“Promise me.”

 

  
He knew, deep down, that her words had already reawakened a tiny spark, the merest hint of a speck, of a hope he had tried desperately to supress.  Making her that promise would only serve to remind him that, despite her assurances, his fondest wish was only a dream, never to be realized.  But he also knew he couldn’t refuse her anything.  So he nodded and said quietly, “I promise to try.”

 

  
Kyla looked up at him fondly.  “That’s all a person can ask for.”

 

  
She stretched up on her tip-toes with the intention of kissing his cheek.  Impulsively, at the last second, he turned his head and their lips met.  The Doctor noticed at once that this kiss was unlike the one he had thought about so many times in the past.  His hearts didn’t do the funny little flip he remembered.  Rather, they were filled with a warmth, a feeling of familiarity and friendship, rather than passion.  The difference between the memory and the reality startled him.

 

  
He stepped back from her slightly, staring down at her.  She smiled knowingly and said, “Time marches on, Time Lord.”

 

  
“Indeed it does, Matromna,” he replied, bowing deeply.  “Indeed it does.”

 

  
Kyla laughed joyously.  “Now, go on with ya!  We can’t stand around here all day.  These dragons have work to do.”  She waved to Donna and called out to her, “Take care of this one for me, will ya?”

 

  
“Can’t leave him to his own devices, can I?” Donna called back.  She watched as the Matromna of the planet Pendragora mounted the great dragon Lyrioth, and she and her escorts took to the sky, Korioth trumpeting loudly in tribute to the two time travellers.

 

  
The Doctor stood gazing at them until they entered the clouds and were lost to his sight.  Then he took a deep breath, picked up his bags and turned back toward his companion.

 

  
“Are you alright, Spaceman?” Donna asked, when he returned to her side.

 

  
He gave her a lopsided grin and a wink.  “Eh, you know me.  I’m always alright.”  He threw his right arm over her shoulder and kissed her left temple.  “Come on, Donna.  Let’s go home.”

 


	13. Traumas and Turning Points

But he wasn’t alright.  He knew it.  Donna suspected it.  It wasn’t anything obvious.  Perhaps he was a little moodier than normal.  But what  _is_  normal for the Doctor?  He still ran around the TARDIS like a manic chimpanzee.  He still took them to interesting and ultimately dangerous places.  Maybe his laugh was the tiniest bit forced at times, or edging toward slight hysteria.

 

  
Although he only agreed to Kyla’s request to end the discussion, he was hard-pressed to keep her words from drifting into his thoughts at odd moments.  He would step into the kitchen and see Donna preparing dinner, or setting out their tea.  His hearts would flutter at the sheer domesticity of it and the realization that he was not at all adverse to it, and perhaps even other ‘domestic’ activities, especially when she would turn and smile at him.  But then she would make some caustic remark or call him  _‘Time Boy’_ , and the knowledge that she had no interest beyond companionship would shove those feelings back down into the abyss that was his Time Lord existence.

 

  
He resigned himself to the relationship and went forward as if nothing had ever changed.  Maybe he was a little more protective of her when they travelled to Quillerius Minor, a planet with marvellous waterfalls, but carnivorous flora.  Perhaps he sat a little closer to her at the state dinner for the Crown Prince of Bergast, when the lavender-hued monarch got a little too friendly in his conversation.  Donna didn’t seem to have noticed, for which he thanked whatever gods were listening. 

 

  
But it was the Library and its aftermath that made it impossible for him to bury his thoughts behind the scar tissue he had started to form over his hearts.  The Doctor was surrounded by death once again, deaths of people he liked.  When he saw her face in that horrible Node, when he thought Donna had been  _‘saved’_  by Library, the realization that he had lost her despite his best efforts nearly destroyed him.  Their tearful reunion was witnessed only by the two of them.  And if he hugged her a little tighter than usual, neither of them commented.

 

  
Donna was torn between gratitude that she was back with the Doctor, and grief for the loss of her ‘ _family’._ The Doctor, on the other hand, while relieved that she had been returned safely to him, was troubled.  River Song and the sacrifice she made disturbed him on a number of levels.  He didn’t know what to make of this smug, arrogant, brash creature who seemed to know him in his future.  As he told her, time  _can_  be rewritten and, whether it was changed by design on his part or by circumstances, he wasn’t going to waste time wondering about what their relationship was going to be in a future that was not at all a certainty.  But what  _did_  upset and concern him was the fact that, although Dr. Song seemed to know Donna’s  _name_ , she had never seen or met her in this supposed future.  This revelation caused much distress, setting him to wonder if somehow he was to make a monumental mistake regarding Donna and she leaves him.  He couldn’t let that happen!  All the more reason not to let on how he really felt.

 

  
When they returned to the TARDIS from the Library, Donna was understandably subdued.  He knew she was upset about the false life she had been shown.  He was well aware that she had hoped someday to be a wife and mother, and to have the love of a good man, and the Library provided that.  He wished with all his soul he could be that man, but knew she only saw him as the Time Lord, aloof and alien and untouchable, and not as someone to whom she could bind her heart.

 

  
“I’m a bit knackered,” she stated quietly, once the doors of the TARDIS had closed.  “I think I’ll have a shower and go to bed.”

 

  
The Doctor watched her from his place at the console, slowly manipulating the buttons and levers necessary to take them into the Vortex.  “Sweet dreams, Donna,” he called as she walked out of the control room.

 

  
Later, he sat in his room, looking at a journal he found in the back of one of the drawers of his extremely cluttered desk.  He suspected that the TARDIS had placed it there, but he couldn’t blame the old girl.  She was usually spot on when it came to his needs, and, after seeing Dr. Song’s book of spoilers, he thought he might begin a journal of his own important moments.  He began with the instant he looked up and saw the wedding-dress-clad ginger fireball standing on the opposite side of the console, the corners of his mouth curling up into a grin.

 

  
As he was thinking back on this rather momentous event, he began to get an uneasy feeling, a niggling in the back of his mind.  He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feeling.  Opening his eyes, he stood up so quickly that he knocked his chair over in his haste to exit his room, and pelted down the hall, only to stop suddenly outside Donna’s bedroom.  The door was firmly closed, but he could make out faint whimpering sounds.

 

  
He debated with himself about the propriety of entering a companion’s room in the middle of the night, uninvited.  A debate lasting for all of about a second.

 

  
He gave a cursory knock before he opened the door, to find Donna lying on the bed, bedclothes tangled around her legs and her face buried in her pillow, weeping quietly.  He strode over and crouched down beside her, calling her name softly.  After a few moments, she stirred, raised her head, looked at the Doctor with tear-reddened eyes and said, “Oi!  Spaceman, what are you doing in my room?”, a comment that ordinarily he would have recognized as disapproval, but her tone of voice betrayed her unhappiness and confusion.

 

  
“I was walking past your room on my way back from the kitchen and I thought I heard a noise,” he lied.  “Are you…”  He was going to ask her if she were alright, but, having already shared the ‘special Time Lord code’, he knew she wasn’t.  Instead, he brushed the strands of hair from her face and gave her a small smile.  “Can I help?” he asked.

 

  
Donna sat up and smoothed the blankets around her.  “Oh, it’s silly,” she cried quietly.  “I’m just being stupid.”

 

  
He reached for her hands.  “You’re not stupid, “ he chided.  “You’re the most  ** _not_**  stupid person I know.  You were having a nightmare, yeah?”  He rubbed the backs of her hands with his thumbs to soothe her.  “It’s completely understandable.  Tell me about it.”

 

  
She dropped her gaze and whispered, “It’s not important.  You’ve got better things to do than listen to me whinge.”

 

  
“Not right now, I don’t,” he responded.  “ _Tell_  me.”

 

  
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I was back in the Library,” she began slowly, “looking for Lee.  It was like a maze.  Every turn I made took me further and further way.  I called for him but my voice just echoed back to me, like the Library was laughing at me, ya know?”  She choked back a sob.  He came and sat next to her, but said nothing.  She looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes.  “My perfect life.  Everything I ever wanted.  A house, kids, a man who adored me.  And it was a lie.  A bloody, stupid, horrible lie!”

 

  
The Doctor put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer to him.  His hearts ached to hear her so unhappy, but more so because he wished desperately to be that man in her eyes.  After all, he  _did_  adore her; she just didn’t notice or, in fact, want that.  He rubbed her arm and replied gently, “Not a lie.  A dream.”

 

  
She sniffed and the ever-practical Donna resurfaced.  “Yeah, well, dreams very rarely come true, do they,” she stated pessimistically.

 

  
He smiled at her warmly and replied, “Oh, I don’t know.  Life sometimes surprises you.”  She shrugged noncommittally.  “Better now?” he asked, after they sat there for a few moments.  Donna tried to stifle a big yawn and the Doctor chuckled.  “I guess that answers the question.  Get some rest.”  He stood up to go, as she lay back down on her pillow.

 

  
Just as he reached the door, he heard her call out softly, “Spaceman?”  He turned back.  “Can you stay?” she asked self-consciously.  “Just until I fall asleep?”

 

  
“Of course,” he replied, walking over and pulling the armchair close to the bed .  Sitting down, he reached over and adjusted the bedclothes, covering her to her chin.

 

  
“I just feel a bit safer with you here,” she explained.  “I know it’s silly, and that I’m pushing the boundaries of our friendship, but…”

 

  
“Oh, stop it!” he retorted immediately.  “Now, you  _are_  being silly.  What are friends for?”  He squeezed her hand lightly.  “Who knows?  Maybe you’ll have to do the same for me someday.”  He winked.

 

  
“You?  Ask for help?  That’ll be the day,” she countered and, with a sigh, she snuggled down under the duvet.  “Good night, you mad Martian,” she whispered as began to drift off.

 

  
Thus began a new and unusual nightly ritual on the TARDIS.  They would return, usually laughing hysterically at some misadventure.  Donna would whip up either an elaborate meal, if the situation had been especially tense or they had landed in jail again, or something simple like banana pancakes or merely beans on toast.  Sometimes, the Doctor would tinker and she would sit on the jumpseat and tease him about his mechanical skills.  Other times, they would end up in the library or the media room, just enjoying each other’s company.

 

  
But however the day had gone, it ended the same way.  Donna would announce that she was going to bed.  The Doctor would bid her good night.  She would stop at the doorway to the hall and look back at him.  He would smile and nod slightly and then, after he was sure she had completed her nightly routines, he would quietly enter her darkened room, slide the armchair back into its position, and take up his station as sentry.  She would already have begun to drift off when he sat down.  No words were ever exchanged, but, almost on its own, her hand would creep out from underneath the duvet and reach for his.

 

  
As he sat there each night, holding her hand and watching her sleep, thoughts came to him unbidden, thoughts about her needs and dreams, and whether or not he was doing the right thing by letting her continue to travel with him.  One part of him, the altruistic, dispassionate, unemotional Time Lord, argued that it was unfair her, that he should take her back home, give her a chance to have the life she deserves.  But the other part, the lonely, tired, selfish sod, begged,  _pleaded_ , for more time.  A decision was never made, and the Doctor remained uneasy but determined to never let her know about his feelings.

 

  
This continued for a week or so.  Then, one night, Donna had already fallen asleep before he arrived and her hand remained under the covers.  The next night, she merely said good night and didn’t stop to look back at him. Again, no word of explanation was necessary.  While it saddened him to know that he wouldn’t be keeping his nightly vigil, the fact that she apparently had recovered from her trauma relieved and cheered him.  They carried on, visiting planets, travelling to the past and future, just doing all the things the Doctor and his companion did.

 

  
And then came Midnight.

 

  
And it was Donna’s turn to act as consoler and caregiver.

 

  
She had never seen him as subdued as he was when he returned from the tragic trip to the sapphire waterfall.  Donna had been lying quietly on the chaise lounge when she began to feel uneasy, with vague feelings of fear, anger and despair.  She sensed the Doctor approaching before she ever saw him, and when she  _did_  see him, she got to her feet but didn’t rush over to him.  She stood and watched him make his way toward her, and she noticed the slump of his shoulders, the slow drag of his steps, the expressionless face.  She was shocked and greatly disturbed at the haunted look in his eyes.  Walking over, she immediately threw her arms around his shoulders and hugged him.  At first, he did not respond, but after a second or two, he pulled her tightly to him, closing his eyes and holding on to her like a lifeline.

 

  
Later, as they sat and talked about his experience, Donna could tell he was trying to appear unruffled, but his reaction when she repeated his  _‘Molto bene’_  hinted that he was more affected than he wanted to let on.  She suggested that they cut their trip short and return to the TARDIS, a suggestion with which he readily agreed.  They returned to their room and Donna set about packing her things as quickly as possible.  The Doctor had only a small bag so he was waiting for her when she had finished.

 

  
They went to the Front Desk to check out and she was pleased to discover that their entire stay had been covered, in light of the  _mishap_ , as the clerk explained.  Donna was about to give the fellow a large piece of her mind, but the Doctor took her hand and whispered, “Let’s just go.”  She hated the defeated tone of his voice and acquiesced, but not before giving the poor clerk the patented Noble glare.

 

  
He didn’t release her hand until they reached the TARDIS, needing the reassurance that her warm, soft fingers gave him.  Upon entering, he threw his brown coat over its usual coral strut and walked over to the console without a word.  Donna quietly took her bag to her room and returned, standing in the doorway to the control room, watching him move slowly around the console.  She knew he was closing himself off, burying his feelings, so she called out, “Oi!  Time Boy!  I’m getting something to eat.  Do you want tea?”

 

  
He turned his head in her direction and smiled, once again touched by her care and concern for him.  But the smile didn’t reach his eyes.  “Not right now, thanks,” he replied.  “Maybe later.”

 

  
“Suit yourself,” she snarked, trying to make light of things but worried nonetheless.  “Don’t come crying to me when you find all the Black Forest ham you like so much is gone!”  She turned and went back down the hall to the kitchen, where she made herself sandwiches, tea and biscuits and sat, eating and reflecting on the day’s events.  She had hoped he would join her but she had finished her meal and done the washing up, and he never appeared.

 

  
She stepped out into the control room, expecting to find him hunched over the controls or standing in the maintenance bays beneath the console, pretending to be doing something terribly important, which they both knew was nothing more than a ruse to make himself look busy while he puzzled out something out in his head.  When he wasn’t anywhere in the room, she went back down the hall, thinking perhaps her had gone to the library for some quiet time.

 

  
But the library was deserted.

 

  
Disquiet washed over her, the same vague feelings she experienced earlier that day in the spa.  She tried to concentrate, to locate the source, but the impressions were jumbled and incoherent.  Resting her hand on the coral wall, she pleaded,  _‘Where is he?  Please help me find him!’_   She was answered with a low musical tone and the overwhelming need to go back out into the hallway.  Once there, the TARDIS mentally guided her, with music and sensations, to a carved wooden door she had never noticed before.

 

  
The Doctor’s room.

 

  
Donna had never really thought about whether he even  _had_  a room.  He rarely slept and, on those occasions when he felt the need to relax and decompress, he usually joined her in the library or the lounge.  Thinking about it now, she realized how silly it was.  Of course he had a room.  But she had been down this corridor countless times.  It was actually not far from her own bedroom.  Why had she never seen it?

 

  
Then it hit her.  Perception filter.  He had put a perception filter on his own room!  She knew he was an intensely private person, so it made a little bit of sense.  One didn’t want a random companion wandering in uninvited, after all.  So why was she seeing it now?  Again, the thought came to her.  The TARDIS had overridden the filter to allow her access.  That must mean the Doctor was inside.  And that he was in distress.

 

  
Donna reached for the door handle but stopped short as something occurred to her.  That is exactly what she was about to do: barge in uninvited.  She dropped her hand and started to take a step back when the song in her head rose, both in volume and intensity, urging her strongly forward.  Shaking off her doubts, she opened the door and stood on the threshold, gazing into his private sanctum.  The only light in the room was that which spilled in from the open doorway.

 

  
She could barely make out a cluttered desk with shelves above, strewn with knick-knacks.   _Was that a cricket bat?’_  she asked herself.  Nothing surprised her anymore.  Peering further, she saw a wardrobe on the far wall, and the large bed that took up most of the balance of the room.  What she  _didn’t_  see was the Doctor.  A brown suit jacket carelessly thrown over the desk chair, and white trainers and socks scattered about the floor were the only indications that he had been there at all.  With the TARDIS musically encouraging her, she steeled herself and entered the room.  A few steps in, she heard the faintest of sounds, an intake of breath, perhaps a sigh or a tiny sob.  She walked around the bed and discovered the source.

 

  
The Doctor sat on the floor on the far side of the bed, his back against the wall.  His arms were wrapped around his legs, pulling them tightly to his chest, forehead resting on his knees, trying to make himself as small, as invisible, as possible.  His blue dress shirt was unbuttoned and he was in bare feet, as if he had been overcome while in the act of undressing.  Donna wanted to cry at the sight of him but knew she had to be strong, for him.

 

  
She went over, knelt in front of him and spoke to him softly.  “Doctor?  It’s Donna.”  She waited for a few seconds but he made no reply.  She cautiously put her hand on his shoulder.  “Can you look at me, Spaceman?”  She felt a tremor run through him and saw the small shake of his head.  At least she knew he had heard her.  Reaching up, she brushed the wild fringe of hair away from his forehead and stroked her fingers down his cheek, resting the tips under his chin and lifting it slightly.

 

  
He finally raised his eyes and met hers.  His were hollow, haunted; hers deep blue pools of concern and empathy.  She smiled reassuringly.  “There you are,” she said sweetly.  Remembering what he had said to her not so long ago, she cupped his cheek and asked, “Can I help?”

 

  
His instinctive reaction was to pull away in pride and stubbornness.  But the softness of her hand, the sweetness of her smile, and especially the understanding in her eyes overcame his reticence and he whispered, “I don’t know.”

 

  
Donna’s breath caught in her throat.  The Doctor was embodiment of confidence.  He exuded self-assurance and cockiness, and to hear him so uncertain tore at her.  She was determined to keep herself together for his sake and get him through this crisis as easily as she could.  She sat down next to him and put her arm across his shoulder. 

 

  
After a few moments, he uncurled his legs and leaned against her, resting his head on her chest.  She rubbed his back and spoke quietly to him, letting him know she was there for him and that it was perfectly fine if he wanted to have a good cry.  He chuckled a little at that, and she felt instantly lighter.

 

  
They sat that way for some time until, finally, Donna spoke up and said, “Oi!  Time Boy!  Do you think we could get up now?  My bum’s giving me all manner of grief here!”  She shifted and the Doctor sat up.  “And speaking of sleep, that’s what  _you_  should be doing.  You’ve had a trying day and you need rest.”

 

  
He started to protest but she cut him off with a single raised finger.  “And don’t go giving me that  _Time Lords don’t require sleep like you humans_  rubbish.  I’ve done a bit of reading, I have, and while that’s true to a degree, you lot  ** _do_**  need to recuperate after severe trauma.  And I think being possessed by an unseen alien, having your voice stolen, and almost being offed by a bunch of irrational tourists constitutes trauma.  Now come on.  Off the floor!”  She grabbed his hand and, with a strength that surprised both of them, hauled him upright.

 

  
She walked calmly over to the bed and drew down the covers.  Taking his shoulders, she pushed him gently but firmly into a sitting position.  Looking down, she saw that the haunted look had returned to his eyes.  Sitting next to him, she took his hand and asked, “What is it, Spaceman?  I know you’re exhausted.  Just lie down and close your eyes.  You’ll feel better, I promise.”

 

  
He wrenched his hand out of hers and his body tightened with repressed emotion.  “No!” he growled.

 

  
She took back his hand and uncurled the fist he had made.  “No, what?” she asked.  “No, you’re not tired, or no, you won’t feel better?”

 

  
“No, I don’t want to sleep,” he replied, and Donna could hear the fear in his voice and feel the tension in his body.

 

  
“Worried that, if you close your eyes, you’ll be back there again.  Right?” she guessed.

 

  
The Doctor let out a stuttered sigh.  Even in his troubled state, he recognized the brilliance of his companion and was grateful for her understanding.  He could feel waves of comfort flowing from her, and he realized he could be honest with her, and she would never judge him or mock him.  He relaxed a minute bit and answered.  “I’m afraid, Donna.”

 

  
“Afraid of what, Sunshine?”  Her hand tightened reassuringly on his.

 

  
“The voices.  I’m afraid I’ll hear them again if I sleep.”

 

  
“Well,” she replied, matter-of-factly.  “Then we’ll just give you something else to listen to.”

 

  
He shook his head.  “It won’t work.  I tried.  CDs and the telly made no difference.”  He clenched her hand and looked at her with despair in his eyes.

 

  
She smiled warmly at him and patted he knee.  “I wasn’t talking about anything electronic.”  He frowned, confused.  “Do you trust me, Doctor?” she asked.

 

  
“With my life,” he responded immediately.

 

  
“Then lie down.”  He hesitated for a moment, trying to read her intentions, then lowered himself to the bed.  Donna covered him with the bedclothes and then sat down on the other side him.  She took his hand again and began to sing.

 

  
She sang old Earth lullabies that her Mum and Gran used to sing to her.  She sang folk songs she had learned in school.  She sang pop songs from her teen years.  Everything she could remember that was soft and soothing.  And soon she was joined by another voice, adding harmony and counterpoint to her melodies and lyrics.  Gradually, the Doctor relaxed as his companion and his TARDIS sang away his fears and anger and distress, and he fell into a deep, healing sleep.


	14. Resolutions....with Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Life after Pendragora. Oh, and there’s actual dancing!!
> 
> So. Here we are at the Last Chapter. And I am now finally getting to the part of the story (the actual “sequel”) that I wanted to tell when I first started this bloody thing! I just hope it is worth the wait.

Donna woke up suddenly, a little disoriented and with something weighing her down.  She rubbed her eyes and looked about her, recognizing where she was and remembering why she was there.  She also noticed that the TARDIS had covered her with the crocheted throw blanket from her room and sent her a mental  _‘thank you’_.  Looking down, she smiled as she discovered the source of the weight on her body.  The Doctor lay on his stomach, the bedclothes in a tumbled heap over his legs, one bare foot sticking out at the foot of the bed.  He had his left arm under the pillow, hugging it to his head, and his right arm was draped possessively across her middle.  His hair was a chaotic mess, his mouth was open, and he was snoring softly.

 

  
Her heart took a funny little turn as she gazed at him.  He looked very young and achingly adorable, and she realized that she loved this centuries-old alien with all her being.  Not that she would ever tell  _him_ , mind.  She knew his hearts belonged to someone else, someone lost to him.  A dead love is oft-times harder to get over, and Donna knew that the Doctor felt things more deeply than most and had lost so much already.  In light of that, she would never dream of burdening him with her feelings.  It would only complicate things.  She was content to be his  _‘partner in crime’_ , the  _‘plucky young woman’_ who helps him out, whatever was necessary, so long as she got to be with him.

 

  
She would have been equally content to remain right where she was, enjoying the intimacy of the position she was in, but all too soon, she became aware of a personal matter that needed to be attended to, and rather urgently.  She didn’t want to disturb his slumber, so she tried to ease herself very gently out from under his arm.  At the last moment, his hand tightened at her waist and pulled her closer to him.  She froze, hoping he would relax back into sleep.  After a minute or two, he snorted and shifted, slowly trailing his hand across her stomach as he repositioned himself, causing her to gasp at the sensation.  Once released, she quickly got up and dashed to her own bedroom.

 

  
The Doctor lay there, listening to her footsteps as they retreated down the hall.  He had been awake for some time, but had allowed himself the guilty pleasure of holding Donna for as long as he could.  She was so soft and warm, and she and the TARDIS had soothed his battered mind in ways he would be hard-pressed to describe.  When he had awoken beside her in the early hours of the morning, he was struck by how comfortable and natural it felt.  He turned over and stared at the ceiling, at the stars of Gallifrey that shone down on him, silently mourning the fact that it would, in all probability, never happen again.

 

  
Life continue on for the Doctor and Donna.  Neither talked about the Library or Midnight, by mutual, if silent, agreement.  Their friendship was stronger than ever before, and if there were occasions where one of them reacted to the other before a conscious thought was expressed, neither one seemed to notice.

 

  
One morning, Donna was in the kitchen packing a large basket.  The Doctor had promised a quiet picnic by a lake (they both, by this time, had given up on ever actually making it safely to a beach!), and she had made all of his favourite foods, hoping it would be the most memorable lunch he had ever had.  In the midst of her chore, she called out loudly, “Oi!  Spaceman!!”

 

  
The Doctor sauntered in from the control room, hands in his pockets.  “Yes, Earthgirl?” he replied with a cheeky grin.

 

  
“I left my sunglasses on the bureau in my room,  Fetch them for me, will you?  There’s a love,” she smirked.

 

  
“Your wish is my command, Madame,” he said with a flourish.

 

  
He spotted the sunglasses right away and walked over to pick them up.  Donna was a remarkably neat woman and there was very little on top of the bureau.  So it wasn’t a surprise that he noticed the piece of blue fabric with a pattern stitched painstakingly in silver and white threads.  The workmanship was extraordinary, but it was the pattern that caught his eye, and almost stopped his hearts.  Picking it up, he ran his long finger over the delicate needlework, and tried to compose himself.

 

  
He walked back to the kitchen and stood in the doorway.  Taking a deep breath, he asked, calmly, “Donna?  Where did this come from?”

 

  
She turned around and saw what he was holding.  “Oh, that?  I stitched it.  Do you like it?”

 

  
“It’s lovely,” he replied, trying to hold back the tempest that raged in his mind.  “The pattern is quite unique.  Where did you get it?”

 

  
She stopped washing the fruit she was holding and dried her hands on a tea towel.  Walking over, she took the cloth from him and thought a moment.  “I’m not sure.  Something I just thought up, I guess.  I woke up one morning and had this urge to stitch.  Maybe I saw it when we were on Pendragora, at Kyla’s.  It’s like that pretty Gallifreyan script they had all over the capitol buildings.  Why?”

 

  
He stared at her, trying to decide how to respond.  She began to get worried by his silence.  “It’s actual Gallifreyan, isn’t it?” she asked fearfully.  “What does it mean?  It’s not vulgar, is it?”  Another, more disturbing thought struck her.  “Oh, god.  Is it forbidden, for non-Gallifreyans to write it?  I haven’t insulted you or your people, have I??  I’m sorry!  I didn’t know!  Please forgive me.  I’ll never stitch anything like that again!”

 

  
She opened a nearby drawer and reached for a pair of shears that she knew were there, intending to destroy the offending item.  The Doctor grabbed the cloth out of her hands before she could do any harm to the startling but suddenly precious thing.  Taking the shears, he replaced them and led her over to the table.  “No, Donna.  It’s nothing vulgar.  It’s not forbidden or anything like that.”

 

  
“But it  _does_  mean something, yeah?”

 

  
He sighed and said, “Yes.  It does.  It’s actually something quite special.  So special that I can’t tell you what it is.  I’m sorry.”

 

  
“No, Doctor.  I’m the one who should be sorry.  I don’t know where that pattern came from but I should have asked you about it before I did anything.”  She sat wringing her hands, embarrassed and upset.

 

  
He smiled and covered her hands with one of his.  “No need to be sorry.  It was just surprising to see, is all.  Do you mind if I keep it?  It really is quite lovely.”

 

  
“Of course,” she replied, relieved that he wasn’t upset with her.

 

  
He folded the cloth carefully and put it in his pocket.  Standing, he reached for her hand.  “Are you ready for that picnic I promised?”  Donna placed the last few items in the basket and he grabbed the handles, dashing out into the hall.  She laughed as she heard the control room reverberating with his  _“Allons-y!!”_

 

  
They spent a delightful afternoon picnicking on the shore of a small Scottish loch.  The weather was remarkably good and Donna was never quite sure  ** _when_**  they were, but it didn’t matter.  They were all alone, and they talked and laughed and just generally enjoyed each other’s company and the day.  The oddness from the morning was forgotten.

 

  
When they returned to the TARDIS, Donna remarked as she headed for the kitchen to put away the leftovers, “What do you make of that?” she asked with a grin.  “No Autons.  No giant wasps.  No monsters.  Not even Nessie!”

 

  
“Now, to be fair,” the Doctor called back from the control room.  “It was a totally different loch.  And Nessie is actually quite harmless.  She’s just really, really shy.”

 

  
Donna re-emerged from the hall and walked over to him at the console.  She patted him on the arm and said, “Of course, she is.”  Seating herself on the jumpseat, she swung her feet and stated, “I’m still stuffed from lunch but I’m not tired.  What do you want to do now?”

 

  
Much later, after a friendly fight over the remote control in the media room, they finally settled down on the large sofa, viewing  _“The Princess Bride”_  for the millionth time.  He loved watching this film with her.  She always squealed and buried her face in his chest when Wesley and Buttercup were attacked by the ROUSes.  He would put his arm across her shoulder and hold her, and they would stay that way the rest of the evening.

 

  
By the time the film ended, Donna had fallen asleep, curled up against the Doctor with her head practically in his lap.  He stopped the DVD and turned off the telly.  Looking down, he stroked her beautiful hair, wishing they could stay that way forever.  Sighing, he gently shook her.  She looked up at him groggily and he could tell she was barely awake.  Helping her to her feet, he guided her to her room and opened the door.  Stepping inside, she turned to him and said, sleepily, “G’night, my Doctor.”  Then, to his amazement, she stretched up and kissed him on the lips.  Then she closed the door, leaving him standing gobsmacked in the hall.

 

  
He started back toward the control room, but abruptly changed his mind.  He opened his bedroom door, went in, and sat down at the desk.  Pulling the piece of cloth from his pocket, he stared at the pattern woven and stitched into it.  How had she discovered it?  He was the only person who knew what those circles and swirls meant.  Only  _he_  could have told her.  But how?  And, more importantly,  ** _why?!_**

 

  
The TARDIS crooned words of encouragement to him, trying to direct him to the proper conclusions.  His mind was filled with images and feelings.  Donna dancing on Pendragora.  Holding her as she cried over Pompeii.  Her singing to him, keeping him from falling into the abyss that threatened to engulf him after Midnight.  And now.  That kiss.  So unlike the detox, but equally as shocking.  Suddenly, Kyla’s words came back to him in full force:  _“Theta.  Are ya blind as well as daft?!  Haven’t ya seen the way she looks at ya?”_   And then again: _“Happiness is a lot closer than ya think.  Ya just have ta be willin’ to take the risk.”_   Is it possible?  Could he have been that wrong?

 

  
The TARDIS’s voice in his head soared to a crescendo.  Suddenly, he knew what he had to do.  But he needed some quiet time, a place of solace, to settle his mind and hearts.  This was a delicate situation and  _must_ be handled carefully.  He stood up, went over to the wardrobe and unlocked a drawer he hadn’t looked in since his last generation.  Gathering up what he found there, he strode out of his room and disappeared down the hall, heading for the one place he knew would bring him peace, would calm him enough to prepare for what could well be the most important moment in his long life.

 

  
Donna entered the kitchen the next morning, her hair still a little damp from her shower, to get a cup of tea and decide what to make for breakfast.  She didn’t hear the Doctor puttering anywhere around, and there was no point in making a large breakfast if the main consumer wasn’t going to be there.  So she went to go look for him to see if he wanted anything.

 

  
As she stepped into the hall, she was surprised to see the heavy wooden door of the Doctor’s bedroom, standing open.  She hadn’t noticed it since the night she comforted him after Midnight, and she had just assumed he had reset the perception filter. Seeing it again made her a little uneasy and she hurried down the hall, afraid he had had a relapse or something. 

 

  
However, the Doctor was not in evidence.  She stood in the darkened room, confused as to why the TARDIS would have let her in.  Suddenly, she heard her name being called.   _‘Donna.’_

 

  
She started and looked around.  “Doctor?” she called out aloud.

 

  
Again, she heard her name, a little stronger this time.   _‘Donna!’_

 

  
She retreated to the doorway, confused.  Then she realized the sound was not coming from anywhere in the room or out in the hall.  She was hearing his voice in her head!  And it was not the frightening experience she had expected it to be.  Concentrating, she focused her mind and thought,  _‘Doctor?’_

 

  
She felt his grin.   _‘That’s my girl!’_

 

  
_‘Where are you?’_

 

  
_‘Just follow the TARDIS.  She’ll guide you.’_

 

  
Donna heard the ship sing to her, urging her out of the room.  The music led her down two hallways, around several corners, and finally up a short flight of stairs.  When she reached the top step, she saw the Doctor standing at the end of a short corridor, silhouetted against the light of a partially opened door.  She couldn’t see his face, but felt warmth and calm flowing from his mind to hers.  He raised one arm and put out his hand, encouraging her to come to him.  Without any hesitation, she crossed the corridor toward him and took his hand.

 

  
“Doctor, what is it?  Why did you call me?”

 

  
He squeezed her hand and smiled.  “There’s something I need to show you,” he explained, and, pushing the door open, he gestured for her to precede him.

 

  
Donna entered the room and stopped, not sure what she was seeing.  Instead of a single room, they stood in a vast meadow.  The sky was a startling burnt orange and one large moon shone brightly high in the sky, while a second was barely visible, just beginning to rise over the horizon.  They were standing in a large field of red grass, and she could see trees in the distance.  She turned to the Doctor and asked, with eyes wide in wonder, “Doctor?  What is this place?”

 

  
He had hung back, watching her reaction.  He was pleased at the look of awe suffusing her face.  “This place is very special to me, Donna,” he replied.  “Welcome to Gallifrey.”

 

  
Her brow creased in confusion as she stared at him, trying to make sense of what he said.  “But, I thought you said Gallifrey was destroyed.  So is this a hologram?  One of those rooms like they had on  _Star Trek_?”

 

  
He laughed at her pop reference.  “Not exactly.  The sky and the moons are a projection the TARDIS supplies.  But everything else is real.” He led her over to a stone bench and they sat down.  “After I, er, um,  _appropriated_  the TARDIS, I brought some of the flora and fauna from the planet onto the ship.  I wanted to create a place where I could go to decompress, to think and meditate.”  He reached over and took her hands in his.  “I’ve never brought anyone here before, never showed anyone my home.”

 

  
“Other than Rose, you mean.  Right?” she asked sincerely.

 

  
“No!” he responded emphatically.  “Not Rose.  Never Rose.”

 

  
“But I thought...”she trailed off as she saw him shake his head.

 

  
“What did you think?”

 

  
“You and Rose...I mean, well...you love her so much, I just would have assumed...”

 

  
“You thought Rose and I...”  He stopped and thought to himself,  _‘Well, that explains a **lot**!’_   “I see I need to explain a few things.  I met Rose not very long after the War, when I was in a very dark place.  I was dangerous and self-destructive.  And Rose was a shining beacon that guided me out of the deep despair I was wallowing in.  She was sweet and smart, and I grew to care about her and depend on her.  But I was a different person then, quite literally, which is a conversation for another time,” he gave her a lopsided smile.

 

  
He continued.  “But Rose was also very young and always seemed to want me to be something I wasn’t.  She was never really comfortable with aliens, and chose to ignore just how alien  _I_  really was.  When she was lost to the parallel universe, I was devastated, because I felt I had failed her, failed to protect her.  And I was naturally upset.  So, I guess you’re right.  I did love her in a way, like one loves a dear friend.”

 

  
He stood up and began to pace.  “Romantic love is not an emotion I’ve had much experience with.  On Gallifrey, all marriages, especially those between Time Lords or the ruling classes, were arranged affairs, ways to unite families or clans, or business mergers.  My wife and I met for the first time at the gala when our ‘engagement’ was announced.  I was luckier than some.  My wife was a lovely, caring woman whom I respected and learned to care about.  But love was never required and was rarely an option.  The only time I ever felt that way was when I was a boy.”

 

  
For the first time during his speech, Donna spoke up.  “That was Kyla, wasn’t it,” she stated rather than asked.

 

  
He nodded.  “In all those centuries since, I have never met anyone who inspired that kind of feeling in me.  I never expected it, nor did I go looking for it.”  He stopped and took a deep breath.  “Until now,” he confessed. 

 

  
Donna stared at him, confused.  “What does that mean?  I don’t understand.”  Which was actually more that she wouldn’t let herself believe what she hoped he was saying.

 

  
“Kyla told me that last night on Pendragora that I should just be honest and speak from my hearts.  But I’m afraid, Donna.  Afraid that what I’m feeling is inappropriate or unwanted.  Afraid if I put it into words, I’ll ruin it and lose everything wonderful that I have.”  He looked at her intently, trying to gauge her reaction.

 

  
Donna’s mind was in turmoil.  She  _thought_  she knew what he was trying to say, although, in true Time Lord fashion, he talked a lot but never quite said plainly what he meant.  She was just as afraid as he was, afraid to assume anything, and reluctant to respond until she was sure.

 

  
The Doctor began to get uneasy at Donna’s continued silence.  Had he been unclear, or was she trying to figure out how to let him know she didn’t feel the same way.  Finally, he decided to take the final step and, taking her hand, he walked her over to a small table under a large silver-leafed tree.

 

  
“There’s something I need you to see,” he told her.  Picking up a small object, he unfolded the faded cloth covering, revealing a lavender stone set in a platinum cage, and offered it to her.  Donna took it and held it between her fingers.

 

  
“It’s beautiful,” she said.

 

  
“I made it, another lifetime ago.  It’s a stone I found by a river back home.”  He paused.  “Look at the back.”

 

  
Donna turned it over and gasped.  Etched into the back were Gallifreyan letters.  “It’s...” she stopped, speechless.

 

  
“Yes,” he confirmed.  “It’s the same script as this.”   He picked up the blue stitched cloth he had taken from her. 

 

  
“What does it mean?  And why is it on the stone?”

 

  
“I made that pendant for Kyla.  But I realize now it was really intended for someone else.”

 

  
“Who?” she asked in a whisper.

 

  
“The script, both on the pendant and on the cloth is, as I said, very special, very secret.  A word known only to me.  And that I can only reveal to one other person.”  He ran his fingers over the stitches and continued.  “This is the written form of my true name.  In Time Lord tradition, it is only ever told to one’s bond-mate, to the person I want to spend all of time with.”

 

  
“What are you telling me?  If you can only tell your wife, how did  ** _I_**  know it enough to stitch it?”  She shook her head in confusion.

 

  
He touched her cheek.  “Obviously, my hearts knew better than my head, and couldn’t wait for me to catch up!  I must have communicated to you at least the  _symbols_  for my name.  Telepathically.  Probably the night you sang me to sleep.

 

  
“But that would mean....”

 

  
“Yes, Donna.  That means I love you and want you for my bond-mate.  I need to know if you could possibly feel the same way.  If you don’t, the word can never be said aloud.”

 

  
She stared up at him and held the pendant tightly.  “You love me,” she stated flatly.

 

  
“Yes,” he replied, clearly and definitely.

 

  
“Why?”

 

  
That surprised him.  “Why?” he asked.  “Why, what?  Why do I love you?”

 

  
Her eyes were becoming moist, but she refused to let him see her cry, so she blinked once to clear them.  “Yes, Time Lord.  Why do you love this unimportant, inconsequential, nobody of a temp, from a dingy little planet in the middle of nowhere?”

 

  
He sighed and smiled warmly down at her.  “Ah, Donna.  You are none of those things.  I love you because you are brilliant, and clever, and strong.  I love you because you are brave, and caring, and sing me to sleep when I am distraught and overwhelmed.  I love you because you challenge me, and support me, and smack me one when I start to do something really stupid.  I love you because you begged me to save someone in Pompeii.  I love you because you cried for the Ood.  I love you for your fire, and your righteous indignation, and your magnificent ginger hair.  I love you because you are beautiful, inside  _and_  out, and, every time I look at you, I drown in your shining blue eyes that see me as I really am, and care about me anyway.”

 

  
He took her hand, pressing the pendant between them, and said simply, “I love you because you are Donna, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and right now, I desperately need to hear you say that you love me in return.”

 

  
The tears that Donna had been holding in overflowed at his words.  She smiled weakly as she wept, and softly replied, “Oh, Doctor.  I have loved you for so long, but I thought you were Rose’s and always would be.  I never let myself think you could ever care for someone like me.  I’m not young.  I’m not pretty.  I’m not talented.  I’m just loud old Donna.”

 

  
He laughed and shook his head.  “I’m not Rose’s and never was.  I can see I have my work cut out for me, convincing you that I mean what I say!  I don’t want young; I want  ** _you_**!  I want you with all your strengths  _and_  all your weaknesses.  And, for the record, you’re right.  You are  _not_  ‘pretty’.  You are bloody gorgeous, and I’ll thank you to stop disparaging the woman I love!”  He winked at her.  “Will this help?”

 

  
The Doctor bent his head and, placing his hands on her cheeks, brushed his lips lightly against hers.  When she didn’t resist or step back, he deepened the kiss and pulled her into his strong embrace, one hand holding her head steady and the other arm circling her waist.

 

  
At the first touch of his lips on hers, Donna’s heart exploded with joy.  Feeling his arm around her, she reached up and caressed the back of his neck, pressing her lips more firmly against his and running her fingers through his hair.

 

  
Without lifting his mouth from hers, he whispered in her mind,  _“I love you, Earthgirl.’_

 

  
And she replied in kind,  _“And I love **you** , Time Lord.’_

 

  
After a few minutes, they stepped away from each other, breathless.  The Doctor took the pendant from her and, to her surprise, went down on one knee.  Looking more serious than she had ever seen him, he cleared his throat and said solemnly, “Donna Eileen Noble, I love you with all my hearts.  Would you consent to be my bond-mate for all time in full Gallifreyan fashion?  I offer you this token, made by my own hand and bearing the figure of my true name, as my pledge to you, of my love and fidelity.  Will you accept?”

 

  
Tearing flowing anew, Donna reached out and took the pendant from his hand and replied, with equal reverence, “Yes, Doctor.  I do accept.  I love you from the bottom of my single, human heart, and will for as long as I live.”

 

  
He stood up quickly and gathered her up into another rib-crushing embrace, kissing her until she pushed at his chest and gasped for air.  He laughed and said, sheepishly, “Sorry!  Respiratory bypass.  I got carried away there for a second.  I see I’ll have to be more careful with you in the future.  But first...”  Taking the pendant, he opened the clasp and reached around her neck, attaching his token carefully.  Its lavender colour was a lovely complement to her creamy ivory skin.  He cupped her cheek in his hand and gave her a light, sweet kiss.

 

  
Donna fingered the pendant.  “Doctor,” she began.

 

  
He interrupted her.  “Call me Theta.  Please.  At least until the wedding.”  He winked at her again.

 

  
“Theta.”  She rolled that name around in her mouth.  It felt right.  Feeling a little bold, she concentrated and sent a wave of love from her mind to his, followed by the statement,  _‘I love you, Theta.’_

 

  
His mind was overwhelmed at the feeling.  It had been so very, very long since he had been in mental communication with anyone, and to have so strong an emotion flood him was more than he could ever have imagined he would feel again.  He hugged her once more and said  _‘I love you so, so much.  Thank you.’_

 

  
And as they stood there, the Doctor leaned in and whispered in her ear.  “Back on Pendragora, you asked me if the Gallifreyan language sounded as lovely as it looked.”  At her nod, he said, “Let me show you,” and began to sing to her, pouring out his love in the ancient native tongue of his people.  When she asked, he explained that originally Gallifreyan was a sung language.  By the time of the War, the spoken variation had completely replaced the sung version and had been the standard for thousands of years.  It was only used on formal occasions and religious observances.  He had always loved the sound of it, and had taught himself as much as he was able to discover at the Academy.  No one had ever known, and he had never sung to anyone before.  He had never wanted to share that intimacy with another person, until now.

 

  
“That was beautiful,” she murmured.  “I’m honoured.”  He released her and she noticed that his cheeks were wet with tears.  She wiped them away with her thumbs and said, “You old softy!”

 

  
He took her hand and kissed it, leading her back to the bench and sitting down.  “That’s me.  I’m just a tired, old man with nothing to offer but his weary old hearts and a battered blue box.  But I promise you, Donna.  Everything I am and everything I have is yours.”

 

  
“And that, Theta, is so much more than I deserve.  So, tell me.”  She looked him in the eye with a bit of concern.  “What exactly does  _true Gallifreyan fashion_  entail?”

 

  
“Ah, yes, well, that.”  He rubbed the back of his neck in that nervous way he had.  “Well, first, it requires asking and receiving of consent from the head of the potential bond-mate’s clan.”

 

  
“Which would be Mum, I presume,” she stated with a smirk.

 

  
“Or Wilf,” he replied quickly.  “Yes, actually Wilf is the ranking male so, yeah.  I’ll talk to Wilf!”

 

  
“Don’t think you’re going to get away that easily.  It’s going to hard enough to explain as it is.  Mum’ll pitch a pink fit if you try to go around her.  You’re going to have to suck it up, Time Boy!”

 

  
He sighed heavily.  “I suppose you’re right.  I’ll ask them both.”

 

  
“Okay, what about the ceremony?  Do we have to stand naked in the moonlight on the moors or something?” she asked in jest, although, at the thought of the Doctor naked, she shivered and a slight blush tinged her cheeks.

 

  
He laughed heartily.  “You little minx!” he said, swooping down give her a quick kiss.  “There  _are_  a few small rituals, a binding of hands and telepathic exchange of names, that sort of thing.  But it can all be done in the context of a standard Earth ceremony.”  He took her hands and said, seriously and with deep emotion, “I want you to have the kind of wedding you’ve always dreamed of.  I want to see you walk up the aisle toward me, looking radiant in white gossamer, crystal and lace, and shining with love, just for me.  I want it all, Donna.”

 

  
His words choked her up for a few moments.  When she was finally able to speak, she said, ever practical, “Well, then I guess we’d better make for Chiswick, and right quick!”  She stood up to go.

 

  
He grabbed her hand and stopped her.  “There’s one more thing I need to do.”  She looked at him quizzically.  Leading her over to the table again, he uncovered the other, larger object sitting there.  “This was Kyla’s old music box,” he explained, holding it out for her to see.  “When she left Gallifrey, she asked me to do something and I never could.  It was too painful.  But now I can.  Now I  _want_  to.”  He turned the crank and set it back down, soft music filling the air.  Holding out his hand, he asked, “Donna.  My love.  Will you dance with me?”

 

  
She put her hand in his and they began to sway to the music.  And as they did, they were aware of another melody being woven through their minds.  The TARDIS joined in their dance and sang to them in Old High Gallifreyan, confirming their love and deepening their bond.  The Doctor sang back to her, and to Donna, filling them all with peace and contentment.  And he silently thanked Kylarion and her dragons for bringing him to this place in his life, encouraging him to take the risk, and showing him that happiness  _was_  possible.

 


	15. Epilogue, Part I – Asking Consent, Making Lists, and Managing a Time Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N I: This one just won’t leave me alone. dm12 commented (so it’s all her fault) that it would be nice if Kyla got to see them dancing, and when I replied that she’d probably see them at the wedding, she wondered who would be invited. And my Muse began to dance a little highland fling (We’re in a Scottish mood these days), and so it begins!
> 
>  
> 
> A/N II: Since this is already so far off-canon, I decided to take one more tiny step to the side and assume that Mickey never got sucked into the parallel world at Canary Wharf, and that he and Martha met after the ATMOS incident. Just cuz I love them together and wanted them at the wedding!

The Doctor sauntered in from the hallway, twirling his sonic screwdriver nimbly in his fingers and whistling a little tune.  But he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight before him.

 

  
Donna Noble sat in the kitchen of the TARDIS, her head in her hands and her brow furrowed.  The table was strewn with lists and charts, and books and catalogues were pile half a metre high.  She had a pencil in one hand and another stuck in the elastic holding her hair back in a messy tail.

 

  
Pocketing his sonic, he strode over and sat down in the chair next to his beloved.  Taking the pencil from her hand, he lifted her chin and kissed her on the end of her nose, a move that always garnered a smile.  This time, she just sighed and dropped her head back to her hands.

 

  
“That bad?” he asked.  She looked up and narrowed her eyes at him.  “You know, you don’t have to do this all by yourself.”

 

  
“Oh, really,” she retorted.  “You’d rather deal with my  ** _Mum_**?”

 

  
He shivered at the thought.  “Okay.  Bad idea.  How did you get her to give it up, anyway?”

 

  
She snickered.  “I told her she’d have to consult with  _you_  on all the Gallifreyan aspects of the ceremony!”

 

  
“Cruel, Donna.  Evil, vicious woman!”

 

  
“Yeah, well it worked.  She’s in charge of the reception.  Once we’re officially married and bonded, I won’t give a fig what happens then!”

 

  
“But, love,” he said, concerned.  “Planning this wedding is making you a nervous wreck.  I saw you talking to yourself at the console last night.”  He got up and put the kettle on for tea.

 

  
“For your information, I wasn’t talking to myself.  I was asking the TARDIS for advice.”

 

  
He turned back from preparing the teapot, filling it with teabags, and getting out their mugs.  “Wise choice,” he agreed.  “Did she help?”

 

  
She started gathering up the papers on the table in anticipation of their tea.  “She’s been hanging about with  _you_  too long!” she replied, with a sniff.  “She was cryptic and vague.”

 

  
“I am  _not_  cryptic and vague!” he protested.  She just laughed.

 

  
The kettle whistled and he quickly poured hot water in the pot, and put everything on a tray, including a small tin of Donna’s favourite chocolate biscuits.  Bringing the tray to the table, he set it down and played Mother.  Donna grimaced as she watched him add several spoonfuls of sugar to his tea.  Sprinkling a small amount in hers, she sat back, savouring the refreshing brew.

 

  
“Thanks for this, Theta, love,” she sighed.  “I needed it.”

 

  
“I thought you might, “ he replied.  “So.  What was the great dilemma that prompted you to seek counsel from my ship?”

 

  
She looked at him over the rim of her mug.  “My, my, aren’t we territorial?” she snipped.

 

  
Realizing what he had said, and receiving a sharp psychic slap from said ship, he put up both hands in a gesture of surrender.  “Sorry!” he exclaimed.  “ ** _Our_**  ship!”

 

  
Donna smirked at him.  “Better.”  Putting down her mug, she picked up a biscuit and began to chew thoughtfully.  “Have you decided on who you want as your Best Man?” she asked.

 

  
The Doctor gave her a wicked, lopsided grin.  “I  _should_  ask Ood Sigma, just to see the look on Sylvia’s face!  Ow!!” he cried, when she smack his arm in response.  “I wasn’t serious.  Well, not very serious.  Well, okay, I did think about it a bit.”  He scooted his chair back out of range.  “But I wasn’t going to do it!”  He rubbed his forearm.  “I guess it’ll have to be Jack.  He’s really the only close male friend I have.  In this galaxy, anyway.”

 

“Jack?” Donna asked.  “You mean Jack Harkness.  That Torchwood bloke.”  She scrunched her face in thought.  “I haven’t met him yet.  Why exactly is that, do you think?”

 

  
“I’ll tell you why exactly,” he answered quickly and forcefully.  “Jack Harkness is the most loyal, brave, selfless man I know.  He is also Boe-kind, which means he is handsome, charming and witty, and hard-wired with raging hormones and an over-abundance of pheromones.  He is a consummate flirt, and I was damned if I was going to give him the opportunity to steal you away right out from under my nose!”

 

  
She chuckled and took a sip of tea.  “You made this decision before or after you came to the conclusion you wanted me yourself?”

 

  
“Love, I have  _always_  wanted you.  I just didn’t want the competition while I figured out how to get you!”

 

  
“Silly Martian,” she said, patting his hand affectionately.  “All you had to do is ask.”

 

  
He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the lips.  “I know that  _now_!” he replied.  Picking up his cup, he drank some of the overly-sweet beverage and looked at his lady-love.  “How about you?  You pick your Maid of Honour?”

 

  
Donna closed her eyes and shook her head.  Opening them, she looked at him seriously and replied, “That’s what I wanted the TARDIS’ advice about.  I don’t want to upset you…”

 

  
The Doctor cried abruptly.  “Oh, god.  Not Nerys.   _Please_  not Nerys!”  He shuddered visibly.

 

  
“No, not Nerys,” she chuckled.  “Although, it would serve her right for dancing with my ex-fiancé at my own reception.”  They both nodded and grinned.  “No, I , um, er…”

 

  
He reached over and took her hand.  “It’s okay, love.  Just tell me.”

 

  
She squeezed his hand and took a deep breath.  “Theta, I’d really like Kyla to stand up with me.  She’s the reason we finally got ourselves off our bums and out of our heads and all sorted out.  But I don’t want it to be awkward or uncomfortable for you.”

 

  
He pulled her up and into his arms.  Hugging her tightly, he said softly in her ear, “That is a brilliant idea, and I am sure she’ll be honoured.”

 

  
She leaned into his chest, listening to his twin heartbeats.  “Really?  You think so?  I thought it would be nice for you to have someone from your side, a Gallifreyan.  She’s the closest thing you’ve got to family.”

 

  
The Doctor pulled her tighter to him and his voice broke a little.  “You are the most amazing woman I have ever had the good fortune to meet.  I can’t tell you what it would mean to me to have a member of my species there to witness our exchange of vows.  It will allow me to fully and properly declare my intent and promise, in front of both humans and Gallifreyans, making the commitment deeper and more binding.  Thank you.”  He bend his head and kissed her thoroughly, pouring out his love.

 

  
They finally broke apart, both breathless, and Donna sat back down.  “So.  Time Boy.  This wedding isn’t going to plan itself.  Care to give me a hand?”

 

  
He pulled out a chair and reached into his pocket for his glasses.  “What are we deciding on today?  We picked the colours: TARDIS blue and white.  What’s next on your list?”

 

 

  
Two months later found Donna pacing in the sitting room of the a spacious suite at the Dorchester Hotel in London.  In accordance with Time Lord custom, the betrothed couple were to live apart for a fortnight leading up to the ceremony.  She started out staying with Sylvia and Wilf, but after three days of her mother’s constant nagging and obsessive behaviour, Donna was on the verge of a breakdown, and the Doctor moved her out and into the hotel before the two women killed each other, or he said anything irretrievable. 

 

  
Which was just fine with Donna.  Things were not exactly on a easy footing where her mother was concerned.  They had returned to Chiswick as quickly as the TARDIS could take them, and the Doctor dutifully asked for consent from both Donna’s mother and grandfather.  Wilf was ecstatic, as was to be expected.

 

  
Sylvia’s reaction was also not unexpected, just uncomfortable and, for Donna, very shaming.  Sylvia had immediately launched into a diatribe of all of Donna’s failures and short-comings, ending by accusing her of finally having to resort of trapping an  _alien_  into marrying her!  Donna said nothing during her rant, just stood and waited for her mother to wind down.  The Doctor seethed inwardly and, just as he was about to erupt in Oncoming Storm fashion, Donna grabbed his wrist and shook her head at him.  He reluctantly stepped back, holding his anger in check, for the moment, and let her take the lead.

 

  
Donna walked over and stood face to face with Sylvia.  She began to speak, softly but clearly.  “Mum,” she began.  “I love you.  I know I’ve never been the daughter you wanted me to be, but I believe, deep down, you’ve only wanted what’s best for me.  It’s just that your idea of “best” and mine are worlds apart.  I love the Doctor.  Yes, he is an alien, but he loves me more and treats me better than anyone ever has in my entire life.”

 

  
She raised a finger to stop Sylvia, who had begun to sputter in protest.  “No.  Let me finish.  You have to hear this.  I’m so sorry.  I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s got to be said.  All my life, you have pointed out everything I’ve done wrong and all the times I’ve disappointed you.  This man, this  _alien_ , has constantly shown me, by his words and actions, that I am special and beautiful and worthy.  I  ** _will_**  be his wife, if he still wants that, after all this.  So I am giving you this choice.  Give us the formal consent that the Doctor needs in order for this marriage to be valid for his kind.  If you don’t, we will get it from Gramps.  Then we leave here and never come back.  We will go to another planet and get married there.  You will never see me, or any children we may be blessed to bring into this universe, ever again.”

 

  
She put her hand on her stunned mother’s shoulder.  “I don’t want it this way.  Really, I don’t.  I had so hoped you could see and feel how much this daft git loves me, and I love him, and be happy for us.  It’s up to you, Mum.  What’ll it be, eh?”  She stepped back and the Doctor slid his arm around her waist, holding her close.  They stood there for some time, watching and waiting as Sylvia silently contemplated everything her daughter had said. 

 

  
Wilf knew Donna was right, that he’d gladly give his consent, but it would mean so much more if Sylvia did also.  He also knew that his daughter was stubborn and opinionated, and sometimes let her prejudices get in the way of her good sense.  He prayed that she would put all her pre-conceived notions aside and see just how good the Doctor was for Donna, and she for him.  Wise man that he was, he stayed safely and quietly out of her line of sight.

 

  
All three watched as a gamut of emotions crossed Sylvia’s face, each word sinking in and taking root.  Finally something Donna never imagined in her wildest dreams happened:  Her mother’s eyes welled up and her face crumbled, and she reached out for her daughter.

 

  
Donna threw her arms around her mother’s shoulders.  Sylvia clung to her and cried, “Oh, Donna!  I’m so sorry.  I never meant to hurt you like that.  I thought I was helping you, pushing you to be better.  You had so much potential.  I just didn’t want to see you waste yourself on dead-end jobs and dodgy men.”  She sobbed and Donna held her tighter.

 

  
She was unnerved to see her mother so distraught.  She hugged her and crooned soft, consoling words.  “I know, Mum,” she said.  “You thought you were doing the best for me.  It’s okay now.  I understand.”  The two women stood and cried together for some time, talking quietly, while the Doctor and Wilf just looked at each other and kept quiet.

 

  
Finally, after many tears, the older woman stepped out of her daughter’s grasp and walked over to the Doctor.  Her face still wet with tears, she looked up at him and stated, “I don’t know what you are, and that frightens me.  But Donna clearly loves and trusts you, and all I am concerned with is her happiness.  She says you are a good man and I should give you the benefit of the doubt, and so I will.  You had better be for real, Doctor.  Take care of my daughter.  Be good to her.  If you hurt her in any way, you will have to answer to me.  Have you got that?”

 

  
The Doctor replied, seriously and quietly, “You have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Noble.  I will guard her will my life.  She  _is_  my life.  I’ll keep her safe.  I promise.”  He reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and produced a crisp, white folded piece of cloth and handed it to her.

 

  
Sylvia stared at it for a few seconds and then a small chuckle bubbled up from her throat.  “A handkerchief.  The bloody alien has a handkerchief!”  She dabbed at her eyes delicately and sniffed a little.  Taking a deep breath, she regained her composure and pulled herself up to her full height.  “Alright now, you two.  Just what exactly do I have to do?”

 

  
The Doctor grinned like a madman and, unthinking, grabbed Sylvia into a bear hug, while Donna looked on, horrified.  Sylvia stiffened immediately and the Doctor, noticing right away, released her quickly and apologized profusely.  “Sorry!  So sorry!  Just got a little carried away, eh?”

 

  
Sylvia gave him a stern look, but, to the amazement of all, just patted his cheek and said simply, “That’s quite enough for now, thank you, Doctor.  Let’s just get on with it, shall we?”

 

  
Donna let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.  The Doctor reached out for her hand and then turned to Sylvia, bowed his head, and said, quite formally, “Mrs. Noble, I have come to you today, as Matriarch of Clan Noble, to declare my intent to bind myself for all time to your daughter, Donna.  I respectfully request that you give us your consent, and grant us the boon of your blessing on this union.  I make this request freely and without reservation.”  He looked at her expectantly.

 

  
Sylvia shot Donna a glance, her eyes inquiring.  Donna smiled and nodded.  Sylvia frowned a moment and then asked abruptly, “Well, what about Donna?  Doesn’t she have any say in this?”

 

  
“Mum!” Donna cried, rolling her eyes.  “Of course I do.  I want this as much as he does.  It’s just a formality, an alien thing!  We didn’t  _have_  to come here and do this, you know.  Please just say yes!”

 

  
Sylvia sniffed.  “Well, I just want to make sure he’s not coercing you or anything.”  Turning back to the Doctor, she replied, as formally as she could to match him, “I, Sylvia Noble, as Matriarch of Clan Noble,  give my consent to this union, with the stipulation that the wedding be here on Earth and in a church.  It has to be legal and binding here too!”

 

  
The Doctor smiled and responded.  “It will be, believe me.  I want the same thing as you.”  Turning back to Donna and Wilf, he stated, “Consent has been asked for and granted.  Donna and I are now officially betrothed, in the ancient custom of Gallifrey.”

 

  
He stuck a hand in his jacket pocket and produced a small ornate box.  He opened it and retrieved the ring nestled there and, holding it out to Donna, said, “This was my mother’s and then my wife’s back on Gallifrey.  I know this just isn’t done usually, and most women wouldn’t want a former wife’s ring, but you are not most women and I knew you’d understand.  This ring has been in my family for generations and is one of the few possessions I have left from my home.  I want to see it on your finger every day for the rest of our life together.”

 

  
Donna took the ring from his hand, ignoring her mother’s scowl of disapproval.  The setting was braided metal in gold, silver and bronze, and held a single square-cut blue diamond.  It was breath-taking and Donna loved it the minute she saw it.  Seeing his worried expression, she placed the ring back into the palm of his hand and, cupping his cheek, she whispered, “I love it, Theta.  And I love you.”  Holding out her hand, she gestured for him to place the ring on her finger.

 

  
He picked it up and turned it over, showing her the inside of the shank.  There were tiny Gallifreyan symbols encircling the ring.  “I rewrote the inscription.  It now reads  _‘My hearts are yours.  For all time.  From Earth to all the stars.’_ ”  He chuckled and said, “I thought about putting  _‘As you wish’_  but decided against it.  This is better.”  He slid the ring onto her finger and kissed the back of her hand.

 

  
Then the flurry of activity began.  After the first few days of the two Noble women trying to co-plan the ceremony and integrate the Gallifreyan rituals, Donna put her foot down and told her mother, in no uncertain terms, to leave the planning to her or she would elope to Raxacoricofallapatorius and be married by a Slitheen!  She acquiesced to Sylvia’s choice of church and minister, and gave her free reign to organize the reception in any manner she pleased, bringing them to their current state of détente, and Donna’s residence at the Dorchester.

 

  
In the intervening months, Donna worked on the wedding plans with the Doctor on the TARDIS, mostly in an effort to avoid her mother.  She knew she meant well, but her obsessiveness was driving her bonkers.  When she moved out of the TARDIS to observe the Gallifreyan period of pre-nuptial separation, she stayed in her old room at Sylvia and Wilf’s.  But after the third time in as many days that her mother barged in unannounced, to ask about napkin colours of all things, the Doctor had nearly blown a gasket and threatened to deadlock seal the door.

 

  
It wasn’t that she was interrupting anything, really, other than the two trying to write their vows and practice the formal language required by Time Lord law.  They both had agreed to wait until their wedding night to partake of  _‘connubial bliss’_  (as the Doctor put it, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously).  Although neither would admit it, they both were a little nervous about that aspect of their relationship.  It had been a long time for each of them (longer, of course, for him, but more traumatic for her), and they wanted their first time together to be special.  Waiting until they were fully bonded in law and mind just seemed right to them.

 

  
But that did  _not_  mean that they were immune to each other’s charms, and didn’t engage in a healthy amount of kissing.  Being caught by your mother while nuzzling a Time Lord’s adam’s apple was not something she cared to experience ever again.  For the Doctor, it was the final straw, and the next morning, he shunted Donna off, studiously ignoring Sylvia’s rather loud protests, to the Dorchester.

 

  
They spent the balance of the first week of imposed separation in her hotel, finalizing the ceremony, practicing their lines, and arranging for the dresses and tuxedoes.  In addition to Kyla and Jack as Matron of Honour and Best Man, they had asked Martha Jones and her husband Mickey Smith to be bridesmaid and groomsman.  Donna had always liked Martha, after meeting her during the ATMOS fiasco, and the Doctor still felt a twinge of guilt over the way his former self had treated the young man.

 

  
It was becoming harder and harder to let the Doctor go back to the TARDIS at the end of the day, but Donna was determined to comply with all of the Time Lord’s rituals and customs.  Before very long, they would be together, fully, forever.  So, each night, she shooed him out the door of the sitting room, kissed him thoroughly so he wouldn’t forget her (as if that was even possible!) and telepathically wished him  _‘Good night until tomorrow, my love’_.

 

  
However, on Tuesday of the second week, a mere four days before the ceremony, the Doctor was nowhere to be found.  They had actually had a pleasant dinner with her mother and grandfather on Sunday evening, and Donna felt a little more relaxed about the upcoming ceremony.  The Doctor had driven her back to the Dorchester, having hired a car for the duration of their stay in London.  She was actually surprised that, firstly, he even knew how to drive, and secondly, he wasn’t a half bad driver.  When she mentioned it (a mistake, she discovered immediately), he launched into a long and detailed account of his beloved ‘Bessie’, a canary-yellow roadster that he drove while exiled on Earth in his third regeneration.

 

  
After saying a long goodbye at her door, he kissed her and said he had some errands to run in the morning and he would see her later that day.  She took the opportunity to explore the spa facilities at the hotel and availed herself of the Rose Cocoon Body Treatment, a Flawless Facial, and a De-Stress Massage.  She also made reservations for herself and Martha for a full massage and mani/pedi on Friday.  She returned to her room and read while she waited for the Doctor to return.

 

  
By Monday evening, she had not heard a single word from him and was starting to get concerned.  She had tried to contact him telepathically, but there was no connection, not a glimmer of his presence anywhere.  It was now nearly four on Tuesday afternoon and she was frantic.  She picked up the phone several times, intending to call her mother, but just couldn’t do it.  The last thing she wanted was to give Sylvia any more ammunition to use against either her or the Doctor.

 

  
She was pacing the floor, trying to figure out what to do, when the doorbell chimed.  Racing to the door, she flung it open with a sarcastic remark about losing his cardkey again.  But she was stopped in mid-word.  Standing in the open door was not her MIA fiancé, but his former companion.

 

  
“Martha!” she squealed.  “I wasn’t expecting you.  Come in!”

 

  
Martha laughed and walked into the sitting room and stared.  “Wow!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide as she took in the size and opulence of the room.  “He goes all out, doesn’t he?”  She turned to Donna with a grin.

 

  
Donna blushed slightly and said, “I  _told_  him it was all too much.  I would have been happy with the Best Western in  
Chiswick.  But no.  He had to have the best, he said.”  She chuckled.  “I think he is just showing off for my Mum.”

 

  
The two women went and sat down on the large settee.  Donna turned and said, “Martha, it is really nice to see you but I wasn’t expecting you until Friday morning.”  She frowned suddenly, thinking about the Doctor’s continued absence.  “There’s nothing wrong, is there?”

 

  
Martha smiled sheepishly and replied, “Actually, the Doctor called this morning and asked me to come over early.  To keep you company, I guess, until he got back.”

 

  
Donna stared at her friend, her eyes narrowed and her brows meeting in a scowl.  “He called you?” she asked.  “He called  _you_?!?”  She gritted her teeth and tried not to take out her anger on the messenger.  “Had to run a couple of errands, he said.  See you Monday night, he said.  I know he loses track of time sometimes, which is balmy when you think of it, a Time Lord losing time, but he can’t even be bothered to pick up a bloody phone and call me himself to tell me he’s alright?!”  She stood up and began to pace, continuing her rant.  “No, he sends his former companion, someone he knows I like a lot and would be less likely to maim, to give me the news.”

 

  
She looked back at Martha, who had wisely kept her seat and hadn’t tried to interrupt.  She knew Donna was full of pent-up energy and anxiety and needed a release.  The ginger woman resumed her pacing.  “It’s not like we’re getting married or anything in a couple of days.  Oh, wait.  Yes, we are.  Did he have a sudden urge for joy-ride through the galaxy?  For all I know, he’s at an intergalactic gentlemen’s club for one last giggle, instead of lying in a ditch or chained up in another dungeon!  What the bloody hell was he thinking!?!” she cried, her voice breaking as her fears began to overwhelm her anger.

 

  
Martha jumped up and threw her arms around her.  “Donna!  It’s okay.  He really did have an errand, something rather important he had to pick up, that he’ll tell you all about when he gets here.  But you know the Doctor.  He got a little side-tracked by a small crisis on some planet or another, I forget the name, and it threw his timetable off.  He intended to be back yesterday, but couldn’t turn his back on someone in trouble.”

 

  
She led her back to the settee, and they sat.  Donna was embarrassed by her emotional outburst but Martha understood.  “It’s just pre-wedding jitters,” she told her.  “Nothing to be ashamed about.  It’s just us girls here, yeah?”  Donna smiled wearily and nodded.

 

  
They were interrupted by the chime of the doorbell and Martha got us quickly to answer it.  “It’s Mickey,” she called back.  “With the dresses.  I asked him to make sure they got delivered here today.”

 

  
“Oh, blimey!” Donna responded.  “I had forgotten all about them!”  She ran over to the bellman who was guiding a small clothing rack hung with several white plastic garment bags, and directed him to one of the smaller bedrooms.  Turning back, she walked over to where Mickey Smith stood at the door.  “Mickey!” she cried.  “I am really glad you could be part of our wedding.  The Doctor speaks so highly of you.  I know he’s just as pleased as I am.”

 

  
He looked at her in amazement.  “He does?  Well,  _that’s_  a change!  Time was, he couldn’t even get my name straight.  I think he did it to annoy me.”

 

  
“Thank you so much for doing this.  The dresses, I mean.  I don’t know where my head is these days.”

 

  
He smiled and threw a friendly arm around her shoulder.  “Ah, don’t worry,” he commiserated.  “You should have seen Martha the week before our wedding.  Couldn’t string two sentences together to make a thought, could ya, babe?!”

 

  
She came over and agreed.  “He’s right.  I was a mess.  If it wasn’t for him and my sister Tish, I probably would have run away screaming!”

 

  
The bellman returned and Donna grabbed her purse and gave him a couple of pounds for his service.  As he exited the room, he was practically bowled over by a figure in pinstripes dashing through the open door.  The Doctor came to a sliding halt in front of the trio who stood staring at him, each with a different expression.  Mickey grinned and Martha shook her head in incredulity.  Donna’s face, however, ran a gamut of emotions before settling on angry/hurt. 

 

  
He bounded over to them and put out a hand.  “Mickey!!” he exclaimed, pumping the young man’s hand for all he was worth.  “Lovely to see you!  And Martha.”  He turned to her and kissed her cheek.  “Beautiful as ever!”

 

  
Donna had moved away from them as the Doctor greeted his former companions, standing with her back to him and leaning on the back of the settee, trying to compose herself.  She heard his footsteps as he cross the parquet floor toward her.  She turned and saw him, his arms open wide and a sweet smile on his face.

 

  
“There’s my love,” he said as he approached her to envelope her in a warm embrace.  He was totally caught off-guard when she punched him, hard, in the right shoulder.  “Ow!” he cried, taking a step back.  “What the hell was  _that_  for?!”  He stared at her in confusion.

 

  
Mickey and Martha chose that moment to check out the view from the balcony.

  
  
“ _That_ ,” she replied, annoyance and sadness and hurt warring for prominence, “is for scaring me half to death!”  She pushed at his shoulder again as she continued.  “Did you think you could just toddle off to who knows where and I wouldn’t notice?  That I wouldn’t worry when you didn’t come back??”

 

  
He grabbed her hands and pulled her into his arms.  Feeling her tremble, he stroked her hair whispered softly to her, holding her tightly against his chest.  “I’m sorry I worried you.  I know you’ve seen the kinds of situations I can get myself in.  But I promise you.  Nothing could ever happen to me that would prevent me from coming home to you.”

 

  
He heard her sob softly and tense at his words.  He was suddenly struck with a disturbing thought.  Holding her away from him slightly, he gazed intently into her eyes and sighed when he realized what he read in them.  “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?  You weren’t worried that I was captured or lying hurt somewhere.  You thought I had done a  ** _runner_**!!”

 

  
Seeing her almost imperceptible nod, he gathered her up again in a crushing embrace.  “Oh, Donna!  Love!  Don’t you know I could never leave you?!  That you are as essential to me as air!?!”  She cried softly in his arms at his words of assurance.  “I can’t breathe properly when I’m not with you.  How can I make you understand that?  Am I going to have to spend the rest of my life proving to you that you  _are_  my life??”

 

  
“Possibly,” was her reply, muffled as she pressed herself closer to him.  She felt his laughter rumble in his chest against her cheek. 

 

  
“Donna, love.  Look at me.  It’s okay.  I’m here, and I always will be.

 

  
She raise her head slightly and said, sniffling, her eyes round and wet.  “I called you.  Called  ** _to_**  you.  And I couldn’t hear you.  Or feel you.  Like you had put up barriers or something.”

 

  
He wiped the tears from her cheek and caressed her face.  “That will change, once we’ve bonded fully.  After that, you’ll hear me and feel me, anywhere across time and space, whenever you want to.  That’s part of the Gallifreyan rituals.  It could be done any time after we’re married, but including it in the ceremony strengthens the bond and gives it an additional depth.”  He bend down and kissed her firmly and almost desperately. 

 

  
They broke apart finally, panting just a little from lack of oxygen.  Donna hugged him tightly and said simply, “I missed you, Spaceman.”

 

  
He smiled down at her.  “And I missed you terribly, Earthgirl.  I’m sorry I upset you.”

 

  
“Just don’t do it again, okay?”

 

  
“I’ll never leave you again  I promise.”

 

  
They hugged one more time and then Donna called out loudly toward the glass doors of the balcony, “Okay, you two.  It’s safe.  There’s no blood or severed limbs.”  She grinned as the couple sheepishly re-entered the suite.  “Not  _this_  time, anyway.”  He laughed and put his arm around Donna’s waist.

 

  
She stepped away from him and eyed him carefully.  “So, tell me.  What was this errand?  This important thing that you just  _had_  to pick up three days before our wedding?”

 

  
The Doctor bounced on the balls of his feet.  “Yes!” he exclaimed.  “The  _errand_!  Well, now.  Interesting that you should mention it.  Because it should be arriving right about….”  The doorbell chimed.  “ ** _NOW_**!!”


	16. Epilogue, Part I – The Thrill of Surprises....The Agony of Waiting

The Doctor put his hands on Donna’s shoulders and stated firmly, “Now you stay right there.  Don’t move.”  When  
she started to protest, he pointed at her and said, “I mean it.  Stay!”

 

  
She batted his finger away forcefully.  “I’m not a dog, you prawn!”  He laughed and strode over to the door. 

 

  
Donna heard the newcomer well before she saw her.  Cries of  _‘Donna!  Donna!  Donna!  Donna!’_  echoed through the sitting room.  Then a ginger blur flew through the door and into Donna’s startled arms.  She steadied herself and hugged the young woman tightly.

 

  
“Maggie!” she exclaimed.  “What are you doing here?  How?”  She looked over at the Doctor, who was grinning like the maniac he often was.

 

  
Maggie gave her one last squeeze and then released the stranglehold she had on her.  “We’re here for the wedding, silly!”  She giggled and said, matter-of-factly, “You didn’t think we’d miss  _that_ , did you?”

 

  
Donna shook her head in amazement.  “We?” she asked.  “Who exactly is  _‘we’_?”

 

  
“I think that would be us,” another voice, a male voice, replied.  Walking through the door was Korsarion, holding the hand of a young woman whom Donna vaguely recognized.  She cried out and put her hand to her mouth, tears beginning to form.  The young dragon rider came up to her and kissed her lightly on the cheek.  “I think we surprised her, Doctor.”

 

  
“That we did,” the Doctor agreed.  “Not an easy thing to do, mind!”

 

  
Korsarion smiled and turned back to Donna.  “You remember, Jenne, right?” he asked, indicating the woman whose hand he had never relinquished.

 

  
Donna smiled as she recognized the woman from her stay on Pendragora.  “Jennerion!  The little queen’s bond-mate!  Of course, I remember you!”  She gave Jenne a quick hug and stepped back, startled.  She shot Korsarion a questioning look.

 

  
He chuckled and said, “I guess I should have mentioned.  Jenne is  _my_  bond-mate now, too.”  He put his arm around her waist, resting his hand protectively over the noticable roundness of her middle.  Maggie stood, giggling at Donna’s reaction.

 

  
Donna frowned at the Doctor, who had moved to her side.  “How long has it been since we were on Pendragora?!” she exclaimed.  “We only got back a few months ago, it seems like.”

 

  
He looked a little sheepish and scrunched his face up.  “Yes, well, that.  See, that was kind of the problem, and why I got back here so late.  After dealing with the uprising on Heliocrætis, I got turned around a bit and overshot Pendragora by about a  year.  I kept trying to get it right but only made it worse.  I didn’t want to be any later coming home, so I just landed on the closest time period I could.”

 

  
“And that would be  _when_?” she asked, exasperated.

 

  
“Almost three years later.”

 

  
Donna rolled her eyes.  “You really are rubbish at navigating the TARDIS.  No wonder she never listens to you!”  She started to laugh at his embarrassed expression.  “Oh, come here, you plum.”  She grabbed the Doctor’s hand and pulled him to her, placing light, sweet kiss on his lips.”  Turning back to the young people in front of her.  “I’m glad you took my advice, Korsa,” she said, sincerely.  “I am so happy for you both.”

 

  
Just then, the doorbell chimed again.  Donna looked up and asked, “More?”

  
  
The Doctor walked over and, throwing the door wide, he bowed his head and said, “Welcome, Matromna.”

 

  
Kylarion strode regally into the room, followed by two men in formal Pendragoran dress.  She swatted the Doctor on the upper arm as she passed and said, “Now, don’t ya start, ya daft thing!”  She walked straight over to Donna and paused, looking at her intently, as Maggie, Korsa and Jenne stepped away respectfully.

 

  
The two ginger women stood silently for a few moments.  Donna spoke first and said, a little teary, “I don’t know what you said to him before we left, but thank you!”

 

  
The older woman shrugged.  “I merely pointed out the obvious.  You did the rest, just by being you.  He was a fool not ta have noticed sooner!” she replied, with a twinkle in her eye.

 

  
“Oh, I don’t know about  _that_ ,” Donna scoffed.  “But I am so glad you’re here!  It means so much, you have no idea!”

 

  
Kyla put her arms around her and hugged her tightly.  “Seeing my oldest friend and my newest friend bonded?  I wouldn’t have missed this for the world!  Now, come on.  I have someone I want ya ta meet.”

 

  
She took Donna’s hand and led her over to where the Doctor stood with the two Pendragorans who had accompanied her.  Stopping in front of them, Kyla said, “My great-great grandson ya know.”

 

  
“Lysarion,” Donna greeted him sweetly.  “It’s nice to see you again.”

 

  
The dragon captain bowed and took her hand, kissing the back of it and holding to his lips a little longer than necessary.  “The honour is mine, milady.”

 

  
“Lysa,” Kyla warned.  “This one’s taken.”

 

  
“I know, grandmother,” he replied as he stood, with a sly smile.  “I just like to keep in practice.”  He gave Donna a wink.

 

  
The Doctor took that opportunity to reclaim Donna’s hand and kiss it himself, and the two women chuckled at the young man’s boldness, and the Doctor’s possessiveness.  He gave them both a lopsided, almost embarrassed, grin and turned to the other man, who had been quietly observing the goings-on.

 

  
“Donna, I’d like you to meet….” he began, but stopped abruptly when Donna went into a deep curtsy before the older Pendragoran.

 

  
“Magestare Ortharet,” she said reverently.  “This is quite unexpected.”  At the Doctor’s questioning look, she explained, “We met at the Reclamation Ceremony on Pendragora.  Where I got the shells, remember?”  Turning back, she continued.  “We are honoured by your presence, your grace.”

 

  
He smiled kindly and replied, “It is my privilege to assist in the bonding of a Time Lord and his hearts-beloved.”

 

Donna’s head swung around and she stared at the Doctor, who was smiling down at her lovingly.  She noticed a touch of moisture in his eyes as well.  “Magestare Ortharet has asked if he could officiate over the Gallifreyan rituals at the ceremony.  I’ve spoken briefly with the vicar, and we have an appointment to meet with him tomorrow afternoon.”  He squeezed her hand and chuckled.  “He sounded relieved, to be honest.  I don’t think he was entirely comfortable with that aspect, bless him.”

 

  
She gazed up at him, overwhelmed.  “This is incredible!” she cried.  “I don’t know what to say.”  She took the Magestare’s hand and said, softly, “Thank you.  This means so much to him.  To  _us_!”

 

  
The cleric patted her hand.  “It means a great deal to all of us, my dear, to be able to share in your happiness.  You are highly regarded on Pendragora, you know.”

 

  
All the adulation was starting to make the Doctor a tad uncomfortable, so he clapped his hands together loudly and announced, “How about some refreshments, eh?  Anyone for nibbles?!” and strode over to the phone to call Room Service.

 

  
A while later, the Doctor and Donna stood together by the glass doors to the balcony, her back against his chest, hugging the arms he had wrapped around her waist.  They had introduced Martha and Mickey to the Pendragorans and gave them an abbreviated version of their adventure there.  The food and drink had arrived and the room resounded with comfortable chatter.

 

  
The Doctor buried his nose in Donna’s hair, inhaling the intoxicating smell of the spicy scent she wore.  He looked over at their friends and whispered in her ear, “Did I do good?”

 

  
She leaned into him and her fingers stroked his arm.  “Yeah, you did good.”

 

  
“So, am I forgiven?”

 

  
She looked at him over her shoulder.  “For what?”

 

  
“For running off and leaving you alone, and coming home late without calling?”

 

  
She chuckled.  “Oh,  _that_!  I suppose so.  But I’m warning you, Time Boy.  If you are so much as  _five minutes_ late for the wedding, I  _will_  smack you into your next regeneration!”

 

  
He gasped, mostly for effect.  “We can’t have that!  I happen to like this body.”

 

  
“Well, isn’t that wizard?” she asked, slowly rubbing her shoulders against his chest.  “I’m quite fond of this body myself, actually.”

 

  
He groaned softly.  “Sweet Rassilon, woman, you are cruel!  You know that?”

 

  
“I know,” she purred.  Suddenly she stiffened in his arms.  “Oh, bloody hell!”

 

  
“What?  What is it, love?”

 

  
She turned and looked at him, her lips tight and her brow furrowed.  “Mum is absolutely going to have kittens!”

 

  
“What?  About what??”

 

  
“About  _this!”_  she gestured, indicating the genial group in the sitting room.  “There are six more people than we planned for!”  She put her face in her hands and moaned.

 

  
The Doctor gently pried her hands away and raised her face to look at him.  “There’s nothing to worry about, my love.”

 

  
“Nothing to worry about?!  Are you mental?!  You can’t just add six people to a reception dinner a few days before the wedding!!”

 

  
He smiled his sweetest smile, the one guaranteed to melt her foulest mood.  “All taken care of.  I stopped and talked to Sylvia before I came here.”

 

  
She gaped at him, bewildered.  “You.  You spoke to my mother.  Directly.  And in person??”

 

  
He smirked.  “Yep,” he replied, popping the  _p_  firmly.

 

  
“What did you say to her?  What did she say to  ** _you_**?!?”

 

  
“Well, I introduced her to Kyla and the rest.  Told her about Gallifrey and how they were the only family I had left and they hadn’t thought they’d be able to make it to the wedding.  I think she felt sorry for me.  She patted me on the cheek and called me  _‘poor dear’_.  I think she was a little in awe of the Magestare as well.  She called the hall and the caterers and got it all sorted right then.”  He beamed at her proudly.

 

  
She stared, speechless.  He stroked her cheek and kissed her softly.  Leaning close, he whispered, “I even had the TARDIS make up a matching dress for Maggie.  I know she’d be thrilled to be a bridesmaid.”

 

  
Donna threw her arms around him and hugged him for all she was worth.  “You are bloody marvellous, you know that?  I can’t wait to tell her.”  She kissed him soundly and stepped out of his arms, intending to seek out the young girl.

 

  
The doorbell chimed at that moment and Donna went to answer it, assuming it was Room Service with another delivery.  Instead she was confronted by one of the handsomest men she had ever seen.  He was tall, almost as tall as the Doctor, with a cleft in his chin, dark wavy hair and crystal blue eyes that twinkled with mischief.  He had a bottle of champagne in one hand and another peeking out of the pocket of his greatcoat.

 

  
Standing at the open door, Donna looked the newcomer over with a critical eye.  He waited patiently, a slight curve of his lips indicating amusement and accentuating the dimples on his cheeks.  Finally, she looked at him directly and stated pointedly, “You must be Jack.”

 

  
The man grinned and nodded his head.  “And you  ** _have_**  to be Donna.”

 

  
“The Doctor’s told me all about you.”

 

  
“And he’s told me practically  _nothing_  about you.  I can understand why.  If  _I_  had someone as gorgeous as you at my  
side, I’d keep her hidden away too.”

 

  
Donna rolled her eyes and held back the smile that his words elicited.  “He did say you were a charmer.  Does that rubbish work on real girls, do you think?”

 

  
Jack flashed her a toothy grin.  “Feisty.  I like that!”

 

  
At the sound of an American accent piercing through the conversations in the room, the Doctor bounded over to the door.  “Jack!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms around him and thumping him soundly on the back.  “Glad you could make it!  Great to see you,” he said, a little too enthusiastically.  Neither Jack nor Donna missed the fact that the Doctor had deliberately inserted himself between the two of them.

 

  
The Doctor took the champagne from him and handed it to Donna, retrieving the other from Jack’s coat.  “Love, can you take these?  I’ll introduce Jack around.”

 

  
She smiled at the two men and kissed Jack lightly on the cheek.  “Good to meet you, Captain,” she said with a grin.

 

  
They watched her walk over to the sideboard where other beverages had been arranged.  Jack shook his head, whistled softly, and commented, “Doc, you are one lucky son-of-a-bitch!”

 

  
Not taking his eyes off his beloved, the Doctor replied, with a lopsided grin, “You don’t know the half of it, Jack.”  They stood, not moving, observing Donna as she deftly opened the first bottle of champagne.  He finally broke the silence.  “Go on.  Get something to eat.  Mingle.”  He left Jack and walked over to join her.

 

  
After a few minutes of perusing the room, Jack spied someone he recognized and sauntered over to where Donna’s bridesmaid stood by herself.  Bowing, he took her hand, kissed it and drawled, “Martha Jones.  Looking as lovely as ever.”

 

  
“Captain Jack,” she answered with a small smile.  “Still the flirt, I see.”

 

  
“Always!” he grinned.  “You know, the offer to join us at Torchwood still stands.”

 

  
“Thanks, but we’re fine where we are.  For now, at least.”

 

  
He frowned.  “We?”

 

  
Just then, Mickey wandered over and put his arm pointedly around her waist.  “Is this git bothering you, babe?” he asked, and tried to look menacingly at Jack.

 

  
“Well, if it isn’t Mickey Mouse!” the American stated.  “Been a while.”

 

  
“Captain Cheesecake,” Mickey replied coldly.  “Yeah, it has.”  They glared at each other for a few seconds, then grinned and hugged each other, laughing.

 

  
“Good to see you!  And that’s  _Beef_ cake!” Jack exclaimed.

 

  
Mickey stepped back.  “And that’s enough hugging.”

 

  
Jack looked at Martha and then back at Mickey.  “Wait.  You two?”  Martha flashed him her wedding ring.  “You dog!” he cried, slapping Mickey on the shoulder.  “Congratulations!”  He looked around and shook his head.  “Seems like everyone is getting married.  Never imagined the Doc, though.”

 

  
Martha smiled as she observed the Doctor helping Donna with the second bottle of champagne.  “Well, once he met Donna, he was pretty much a goner.  She’s an amazing woman, and just what he needed, after all he’s been through.”

 

  
Jack nodded.  “He seems thoroughly besotted.”

 

  
At that moment, Donna walked up to the trio and said, “Sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone I need to introduce to the Captain.”  She out her arm through Jack’s and led him away toward the glass doors to the balcony where the Doctor stood talking with one of the Pendragorans.  “Jack,” she began, “I’d like you to meet Kyla, my Matron of Honour and the Doctor’s oldest friend.”

 

  
Jack took Kyla’s hand and kissed the back.  “Captain Jack Harkness, at your service.”  Turning to the Doctor, he exclaimed, “Doctor, what is it with you and beautiful gingers!?!  Trying to keep them all to yourself?” he smirked.

 

  
“Jack,” the Doctor warned.

 

  
“What?” the American asked, almost innocently.  “She’s Matron of Honour.  I’m Best Man.  I’m  _sure_  were going to have  _lots_  to talk about.”

 

  
The Doctor glared at him.  “I mean it, Jack.  Show some respect.  Kyla is the ‘Matromna’ of Pendragora!”

 

  
Jack looked back at Kyla.  “Pendragora?  The Dragon People?!  I thought they were just a myth!”  He grinned broadly and drawled, “Well, then.  Now I’m  _positive_  we’ll have plenty to discuss!”

 

  
When the Doctor started to protest again, Kyla reached up and put a finger on his lips.  “Now you just hush,” she instructed.  “Don’t ya go tryin’ ta ruin a girl’s fun.”

 

  
“But Kyla!” he exclaimed.  “You don’t know what he’s like!”

 

  
She chuckled.  “And I’m thinkin’ that’s exactly what he’s suggestin’ we find out’.”

 

  
“Kyla!  I really don’t think…” the Doctor sputtered, thoroughly shocked at her response.

 

  
“It’s really not any of yer concern, Time Lord, “ she replied sweetly.  “I think the Boe-Kind and I can manage quite nicely without ya for a while.”  She turned and offered her arm to Jack.  “Come on, Captain.  Care to get a girl a drink?”

 

  
Jack grinned, took her arm and replied enthusiastically, “Yes, Ma’am!”  He gave the Doctor a sheepish but mischievous look, and they walked away.

 

  
The Doctor stood, his eyes wide and his mouth agape.  Donna looked at him as he watched the unlikely pair saunter off to the beverage bar, Jack pouring Kyla a glass of champagne.  She put her hand on his shoulder and asked softly, “You okay, Spaceman?”

 

  
He looked down at her, completely bewildered.  “What just happened here?”

 

  
She supressed the giggle that threatened to erupt.  “ _That_ , I believe,” she replied seriously, “was Captain Jack Harkness meeting his match.”

 

  
“A 900 year old Gallifreyan and a 51st Century Boe-Kind.  Rassilon help us all,” he whispered, shaking his head.  He put his arm around her, pulled her close to him and kissed her temple.

 

  
Much later that evening, the sitting room was quiet.  Room Service had come and gone, clearing away the detritus of the impromptu party.  Kyla and Jack finished flirting outrageously with each other, and she and Maggie had retired to the third bedroom in Donna’s suite.  Mickey and Martha left to return home, and the other Pendragorans had been shown to their rooms elsewhere in the hotel.

 

  
The Doctor was sprawled on the settee.  His suit jacket was thrown carelessly across the arm of the settee, tie stuffed in a pocket, and his shirt had three buttons undone.  He sat with Donna snuggled on his lap, his hands under the hem of her jumper, his long fingers tracing Gallifreyan symbols on the skin of her back.  She had one hand tangled in the hair on the back of his neck, while she lazily caressed his collarbone and sternum with the tip of one finger of the other hand.

 

  
They pressed languid kisses to each other’s lips and cheeks.  The Doctor was finding it more and more difficult to leave her and go back to the TARDIS every night.  And when his feisty ginger stroked her finger further down his chest, he couldn’t contain himself and a moan of longing rumbled in his throat.  She trembled in response to the sound and, taking a deep breath that only served to press her ample bosom more firmly against him, started to ease herself off his lap.

 

  
Feeling immediately bereft of her softness, he grabbed her hand to halt her upward progress.  “Where do you think you’re going, woman?” he asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

 

  
She gazed at him a little sadly.  “Theta.  It’s time.”  She gently pulled him to his feet.

 

  
He closed his eyes a moment and sighed deeply.  Opening them again, he looked down at her and said, “I don’t want to go.”

 

  
“I know,” she agreed.  “And I don’t want you too.”  She picked up his jacket and handed it to him.  Then they slowly walked to the door.  “But we’ve been so good up to now.  It’s only a few more days, Spaceman.”

 

  
He silently cursed his insistence on adhering to Gallifreyan customs.  When he had told her about love being an unfamiliar emotion, he never considered the physical reaction that such emotions could inspire.  It had been generations since his species mated in the natural way, and it wasn’t a process that he had ever given much thought.  He was caught completely off-guard at just how responsive this body had become to external stimuli!

 

  
He had never imagined how addictive kissing Donna would become, or the strength of the desire to be one with her, body and mind.  He knew this prolonged separation would make the bonding more complete and, he suspected, vastly more intense.  He just hoped he lived through it without regenerating!

 

  
Reluctantly, he pulled his jacket on and opened the door.  Cupping her cheek, he gave her a kiss that was exquisitely sweet and achingly tender.  “Saturday cannot come soon enough, my love.  Until tomorrow.”  He stepped into the hall and closed the door.

 

 


	17. Epilogue, Part I – Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : SORRY!!! I’m so sorry! I know I promised the wedding this time. But I blame my Muse. She just doesn’t know when to shut up!!! And I really am getting there. Honest, I am. But these things take time. More time than I expected, I guess. But you DO get stag night!!

The next three days brought a flurry of activity.  After the impromptu party the night before, everyone had a lie-in on Wednesday and met for a late brunch, before the Doctor and Magestare Ortharet went for their appointment with the vicar.  Donna, Maggie, Kyla, Lysarion, Korsarion and Jenne spent the afternoon in Donna’s suite, catching up on what had happened on Pendragora during the three years that passed during the Doctor miscalculation.  Korsa told her about taking her words to heart and approaching Jenne (who sat at his side and blushed beautifully), and how their relationship blossomed.  Donna, in turn (after being teased unmercifully by Maggie), gave them a  _very_  abridged version of her and the Doctor’s journey to the realization of their true feelings for each other.  
  
  
After dinner in her suite, when the others returned to their rooms and Maggie had gone to bed, Donna and Kyla stayed awake and talked into the night.  Donna revealed the true story to Kyla, telling her about the Library and Lee, and the Doctor and River Song.  Kyla held her as she cried about the trauma he suffered on Midnight and how, in his sleep, he had sent her the Gallifreyan symbols for his true name without realizing it.  
  
  
She told the older woman about her own misunderstandings and how she let her pre-conceived ideas of how the Doctor felt and what he wanted, and her own pain and disappointments, colour her thoughts and prevent her from opening herself up to the possibility of loving him.  They had agreed to be as honest with each other as possible in the future.  When they finally said their goodnights, Donna went to her bed feeling lightened, grateful to have Kyla to confide in.  
  
  
Thursday was spent in finalizing the details of the ceremony.  The Doctor stopped in to give Donna a report of the meeting with the vicar, and assured her that all was arranged to everyone’s satisfaction.  Mid-morning, the seamstress arrived with the tuxedoes and to check any last minute fitting issues.  Donna handed the suits over to the Doctor and shooed him out, threatening him with serious bodily harm if he even  ** _thought_**  about trying to get a glimpse of her dress until she walked up the aisle on Saturday.  Since the men were all going to be dressing on the TARDIS, which was currently parked behind a perception filter in a park not far from Sylvia’s, she instructed him to take them straight away to his ship and she’d see him a few hours.  
  
  
Martha arrived a few minutes later and she, Kyla and Maggie were subjected to the nervous attentions of one Adele Beaumont, proprietor and head designer at  _A Touch of Whimsy_ , a small dress shop in Chiswick.  Donna was adamant that, if the Doctor insisted on  _‘throwing money around like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas morning’_ , as much of it as possible would be spent on local businesses.  The caterers, florists, transportation.  All of them were run by Chiswick residents.  It was her one demand when he dragged her off to the Dorchester, and he was happy to agree.   _‘The poor besotted fool would do anything I asked’_ , she thought, a little smugly.  
  
  
Martha and Maggie walked out of the bedroom wearing their bridesmaid dresses, and Donna got a little weepy at the sight.  The dusky blue complemented both Martha’s chocolate skin and Maggie’s pale ivory.  The dresses were a very simple design.  The bodice was made of blue brocade shot with silver threads, Martha’s being strapless and Maggie’s having a square neck and narrow straps, and both sitting at a natural waistline.  The skirt was blue silk overlaid with matching chiffon and fell just below mid-calf.    
  
  
What made the dresses unique was the wide white silk brocade sash that circled the waist and hung down the front of the dress to the knee.  This was piped in blue and silver, and was reminiscent of a garment worn by Time Ladies at court in ancient times.  It was important to Donna to incorporate elements of Gallifreyan culture into the wedding.    
  
  
Adele had been a little confused at first when Maggie walked out with Martha.  She was certain she only made three dresses, but Maggie’s made it four.  It took a bit of cajoling, and a fairly large tip, to ease her mind, but in the end, Adele just smiled and chatted and pinned to her heart’s content.  
  
  
Kyla’s dress was of a similar cut to the other girls’, but the neckline was a little higher and the bodice was filled with in inset of blue lace that extended up her neck to a low choker.  The lace was beaded with silver, white and blue crystals, as was the lace overlay on the skirt.  The bodice had tight sleeves of blue lace that flared slightly at the elbow.  The sash on the Matron of Honour’s dress was made of the blue brocade of the dress bodices and was piped in white and silver.    
  
  
Finally, all of the fittings were completed and Adele was sent off with the dresses back to Chiswick, to be delivered Friday afternoon to Sylvia’s, where the women were all getting ready on Saturday morning.  Everyone would then be taken by limousine to the church.  
  
  
The Doctor arrived promptly at half six to pick up Donna and the Pendragorans for dinner at Sylvia’s.  Mrs. Noble had declared that it was only fitting for her and Wilf to host dinner for the Doctor’s family.  Donna groaned when she first proposed it, but the Doctor leapt at the idea, thanking Sylvia profusely for her thoughtfulness, which earned him another rare smile from his future mother-in-law.  
  
  
When they had all gathered in the suite, he quietly reiterated to the visitors the tale he had told Donna’s mother, and they were more than happy to play ‘distant cousins’ for him.  As they stood in the lift descending to the lobby, he noticed that Donna looked a little apprehensive.  “What is it, love?” he asked.  “You’re not worried about your Mum, are you?”  He held her hand in his right and stroked her cheek with his left.  
  
  
She smiled and leaned her face into his hand.  “Actually,” she replied, “I was thinking about how we’re going to get all these people into that little car you hired.”  
  
  
He chuckled and squeezed her hand.  “That’s my Donna.  Ever practical.  Believe it or not, I thought of that.”  
  
  
“Really.” she stated derisively.  
  
  
“Yes, really, you little minx,” he replied, playfully tweaking her nose.  “Just wait and see.”  Kyla stood quietly to the side and watched, smiling to herself.  
  
  
The lift doors opened and they all exited, crossing the lobby to the front of the hotel.  The Doctor raced to the doors and opened them with a flourish, startling the poor doorman.  At the kerb, two gleaming black Rolls Royce Phantoms stood idling, each with a liveried driver.  He turned to Donna and beamed proudly.  She pursed her lips and stared at him.  At his crestfallen look, she softened her gaze and swatted his shoulder lightly.  “Show off,” she whispered.   
  
  
He laughed and pulled her tightly to him.  “Only the best for my hearts’ love,” he replied, kissing the top of her head.  
  
  
“We could have taken a cab.  You just want to impress my Mum.”  
  
  
“You say that like it’s a  _bad_  thing!”  
  
  
They settled the Pendragorans in the two cars, Lysarion, Kosarion, Jenne and Maggie in one, and Kyla and the Magestare in the other with the Doctor and Donna.  They made the relatively short drive to Chiswick in good time and pulled up in front of Sylvia Noble’s house.  The door opened and out stepped the lady herself.  She took one look at the cars that had begun to discharge their occupants, and crossed her arms across her chest, a scowl on her face.  
  
  
Donna walked quickly over and spoke quietly to her mother.  “Now, don’t start.”  
  
  
Sylvia glared at her daughter and said, “Really.  That’s just a bit over the top, don’t you think?”  
  
  
Donna smiled as she looked back at the Doctor, happily helping the Pendragorans from the cars.  “He’s only doing it to make you like him.”  
  
  
Sylvia started.  “Why on Earth would he think I didn’t like him?!”  
  
  
Her daughter supressed a grin.  “Could be the snarky remarks and that disapproving face you pull whenever he’s around.”  
  
  
Sylvia didn’t say anything for a moment, thinking about what Donna had said.  Her face softened a bit and she whispered, “But what will the neighbours think?”  
  
  
Donna laughed.  “You mean like Mrs. Ellerby there?”  She gestured slightly with her head toward a nearby house where the front curtains could be seen distinctly fluttering.  “I imagine they’ll think that you have a rich doctor for a son-in-law who adores your daughter and spares no expense for her family,” she answered with a smirk.  
  
  
Sylvia nodded and replied, “Perhaps they will.”  
  
  
At which point, the Doctor bounded up the three steps to the doorway where the two women stood.  “Mrs. Noble!” he called out, with forced cheerfulness.  “Good to see you.  You’re looking lovely.”  
  
  
Sylvia gave her daughter a brief smile and turned to the Doctor.  “It’s good to see you too, Doctor.  And please.  Call me Sylvia.”  
  
  
He stared at her for a moment and then glanced quizzically at Donna, who merely smiled and shrugged her shoulders.  He decided that discretion was the better part of valour and put his confusion aside for a bit.  By this time, the Pendragorans had all exited from the cars and were waiting in a group on the walk.  
  
  
Sylvia glanced over his shoulder and said, “Let’s not keep our guests waiting on the sidewalk.”  She opened the door wide and called out, “Please, come in.  Welcome to our home.”  She stood at the entrance and gestured for Donna and the Doctor to precede her.  They went inside and Sylvia greeted the Pendragorans as they crossed the threshold.  Wilf met them in the foyer and helped them with their coats.  
  
  
The large table that was usually only used at Christmas was set up in the lounge, using every available leaf.  Sylvia had gone all out, using the good china and flatware, and crystal goblets that Donna could only recall seeing at her parents’ twenty-fifth wedding anniversary party.  
  
  
While the Doctor and Wilf entertained everyone in the lounge, Donna joined her mother to assist in the last-minute details in the kitchen.  Soon, the two Noble women entered, carrying platters of roast beef, potatoes and vegetables, along with baskets of rolls and butter.  As usual, Sylvia had cooked enough for twenty, which really wasn’t a much of a problem, as the Doctor had the appetite of an adolescent human male and could eat like four, and Korsarion and Lysarion weren’t far behind.  
  
  
Everyone praised the meal and Sylvia was surprised and secretly pleased.  The conversation was easy and light.  Korsa recounted the story of how Donna and the Doctor saved their dragons from extinction, and Maggie enthusiastically informed them of Donna’s part in communicating with both her dragon Magarath and Jenne’s little Jennerath.  Donna blushed and hid her face behind her napkin, while Sylvia watched her, thoughtfully.  
  
  
Kyla had brought bottles of Pendragoran plum wine and several toasts were made to the happy couple.  Kyla told a few funny stories about the Doctor as a youth, which cause him to blush and stammer a bit.  Wilf countered with the tale of  _‘his little general’_  and the time when she was six, she took a bus to Strathclyde all on her own because her Mum told her that they weren’t going on holiday that year.  At the end of the meal, Magestare Ortharet stood up and offered a Pendragoran blessing for the joining of families and the continued health and happiness for all members.  When he was through, he bowed solemnly to Sylvia and thank her, as head of the clan Noble, for her consent and also for her hospitality, which was echoed by the others.    
  
  
She was taken aback at the sincerity and warmth of their praise, and she was momentarily at a loss for words.  Glancing over at her father, she sniffed a little and said, “Dad, why don’t you take everyone up the hill and show them your telescope?  Donna and I can clear up and get ready for afters.”  
  
  
Wilf jumped at the chance, and escorted the Pendragorans out the back door.  Donna called out to him that she’d join them shortly, and then turned to begin picking up the plates.  Sylvia stopped her and said, “Donna, there’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”  
  
  
Donna took one look at the serious expression on her mother’s face and immediately thought the worst.  “Mum, I’m not changing my mind.  So don’t even start.”  
  
  
Sylvia put her hand on Donna arm.  “I wouldn’t think of it.  I’ve seen the way you two look at each other and even a blind fool could see how much you love each other.  It’s not that.”  She paused a moment to get her thoughts together.  “I know what an independent woman you are.  All so modern and not one for silly traditions.  I left you alone to plan your wedding the way you wanted.  But I hope you’ll go along with one little thing.”  
  
  
Donna was both intrigued and suspicious.  “What little thing is that?”  
  
  
“You know the tradition of  _something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue_?  Well, I want you to wear these on Saturday if you would.”  She reached into her pocket and took out an old, worn box and handed it to Donna.  She opened it and gasped.  Inside was a pair of sapphire earrings, each one a two-carat pear set in filigreed white gold suspended from a one-carat stud.  They were exquisite.  
  
  
Donna looked over at her mother, tears forming in her eyes.  “These are Nan’s,” she whispered.  “I remember seeing her wear them on Christmas, just before she passed.  Oh, Mum.  I’d be honoured!  It would be like she’s there with me.”  She threw her arms around her mother and hugged her tightly.  
  
  
Sylvia was having a hard time not getting teary herself.  She hugged her daughter back and then stepped a little away.  “They’ll be yours eventually, but for now, they can be your  _old, borrowed_ and  _blue_.”  
  
  
“And now all you need is the new,” a male voice offered.  The two women turned around quickly and saw the Doctor leaning against the hallway doorframe.  “Sorry to interrupt.”  He grinned at them and walked over to Donna.  He too had a jeweller’s box, but this one was brand new and from a very posh establishment in London.  “I was going to give you this at the reception, but I think it’s more fitting now.”  
  
  
Donna took the long box and opened it slowly.  Again, the contents made her breath catch in her throat.  Nestled in the soft velvet was a bracelet with seven lavender cabochons set in platinum links.  It was different in detail but remarkably similar to the pendant that she unconsciously reached up to touch.  
  
  
The Doctor lifted the bracelet out and held it up for her and Sylvia to see.  “The stone in Donna’s pendant comes from my home planet, Gallifrey, which was destroyed in The War,” he reminded Sylvia with a sigh.  “So I couldn’t go back and get additional stones.  But Gallifrey was once known as ‘The Shining Star of the Seven Systems.  So I scoured the galaxy in and around those systems to find similar gems and minerals.  I had seven set in a matching bracelet, for the Seven Systems, so Donna will always know that, like Gallifrey,  ** _she_**  is the shining star of my universe.”  He gently clasped the bracelet to her right wrist and kissed her hand softly.  “Am I forgiven for the interruption?”  
  
  
Donna raised her hand and cupped his cheek.  “I’ll always forgive you,” she replied.  “Mum is another story.”  
  
  
“Ah yes.  Sylvia.  Well,” he stammered.  “Actually, I have something here for you too.”  He patted his jacket, trying to locate the gift.  He finally reached into an inner breast pocket and pulled out a manila envelope.  “It’s traditional for the groom to give the mother of the bride a small gift.”  Seeing the sceptical looks on their faces, he continued, “It’s not?  Well, it should be.  In any case, this is for you, Sylvia.  Just a little something to thank you for giving your consent for me to marry your daughter, and for putting up with all the oddness of having an alien for a son-in-law.”  
  
  
Sylvia took the envelope cautiously and slowly opened the flap.  She pulled a single sheet of paper from the packet and read it slowly.  As she read, her eyes opened wider and wider, and when she was finished, she stared at the Doctor, speechless.  
  
  
“Mum?” Donna asked, concerned.  “What is it?”  Sylvia said nothing, simply handing the paper over to her.  Donna read it and, like her mother, was momentarily at a loss for words.  Finally, she looked at him and said, “You paid off the mortgage.”  
  
  
He shrugged.  “It was the least I could do for my family.  Oh!” he exclaimed.  “I almost forgot.”  He reached into another pocket and pulled out a small, thin ledger.  Handing it to Sylvia, he explained, “This is the bank book for one of my accounts in the Bank of England.  I’ve put you and Wilf down as signatories.  You have full access to the funds any time you need them.  And if that’s not sufficient, I can transfer more.”  
  
  
Sylvia took one look at the figures in the ledger and promptly sat down in a nearby chair.  She looked up at the Doctor and said, “You really are that rich!”  
  
  
“Disgustingly,” he shrugged with an almost-embarrassed lopsided grin.  “I’m over nine-hundred years old, and have had accounts on Earth for a several centuries.  With careful investments and good interest rates, I’ve managed to amass a rather substantial fortune.  I’ve never had much use for it.  Until now.”  He reached over and took Donna’s hand.  “I will provide for you as little or as much as you want me to, Sylvia.  It’s your choice.  But there is nothing I wouldn’t do to make Donna and her family happy, safe, and comfortable.”  
  
  
Donna could see that her mother was having a difficult time coming to terms with these new developments.  She put her hand on her shoulder and said, “Why don’t you have a rest, Mum?  The Doctor and I can do the washing up.”  She looked at her betrothed and smiled a sweet but pointed smile.  
  
  
“Oh, yes, right!” he exclaimed, as he practically bounced over to the table.  “Washing up.  I  _love_  washing up!”  
  
  
Donna rolled her eyes.  “Don’t push it, Time Boy.  Mum’s not  _that_  gullible.”  
  
  
He glanced over at Sylvia, who sat with a bemused and somewhat dubious look on her face.  “Right,” he drawled, and continued stacking empty plates.  He and Donna made quick work of clearing the table and washing the dishes, so that, by the time that Wilf and his entourage returned, the table had been reset and the gooseberry crumble had been taken out of the warming oven, ready to be served with clotted cream.  The Pendragorans had never had anything like it, and Kyla asked for the recipe, telling Sylvia that Dallaria, her head cook, would be overjoyed to find a new way of serving the native fruits.  
  
  
Finally, the evening came to a close, and goodbyes were said.  The next time they would all be together would be at the wedding. Kyla thanked Sylvia her for welcoming them as family, calling her  _‘sister’_ , which caused the woman to finally tear up.  With many hugs and waves, the Pendragorans settled in to the cars, which sped away from the modest house in Chiswick.  
  
  
Upon arriving at the Dorchester, the Doctor handed each of the drivers a packet with a very generous gratuity and thanked them for their service.  He then escorted his ‘family’ across the lobby to the lifts.  As the doors opened and the group entered, he held back.  Donna, stopping the door from closing exclaimed, “Oi!  Aren’t you coming up?”  
  
  
He shook his head sadly and replied, “I can’t.”   
  
  
Donna stepped out quickly and turned to the others.  “I’ll be up in a few.”  As soon as the lift began to ascend, she looked at him and said, “What is it, love?”  
  
  
He took her hand and led them over to a settee in a more secluded area of the lobby, away from prying eyes, but still very public.  They sat, and he reached up and cupped her cheek.  “I couldn’t go upstairs, I just couldn’t.  If I did, I know I wouldn’t have been able to leave.  And I don’t want that.  I want everything to be perfect for the wedding and I don’t want to bollocks it up because I can’t keep my hands off the most beautiful woman in the universe.”  
  
  
 _‘Well, really,’_  Donna thought to herself.   _‘How can I argue with that?’_  “I understand, love.  It’s fine.  Not too much longer now.  We’ve just got tomorrow to get through and then….”  
  
  
The Doctor gave her a mischievous grin and a slight wiggle of the eyebrows.  “Yes,” he smirked.  “Then.”  Moving closer, he leaned over and brushed his lips on hers, increasing the pressure and snaking a hand into her hair, holding her firmly to him.  She responded in kind, and they kissed, sweetly and a little desperately.  
  
  
Finally, he forced himself to break off and move away from her.  His face was flushed, his breathing ragged.  Entwining her fingers in his, he said reluctantly, “I have to go.”  He stood and pulled her to her feet.  “Have fun with the girls tomorrow,” he said, kissing her hand, not trusting himself with more.  
  
  
“Don’t let Jack talk you into anything stupid,” she retorted.  Jack had insisted that, as Best Man, he was entitled, no,  _obligated_  to host a stag night for the Doctor, who only acquiesced when Jack agreed to have it on board the TARDIS.  
  
  
“Don’t worry.  As much as my ship likes him, she loves you more.  I doubt she’ll let him get us into  _too_  much trouble on board.”  He let go of her hand and stepped back.  “Until Saturday.”  
  
  
 _‘I love you, Theta,’_  Donna told him, linking her mind to his.  
  
  
 _‘I love you so very much, Donna,_ ’ he replied, and slowly turned and walked toward the front doors.  
  
  
Donna had scheduled a full day at the spa for Kyla, Maggie, Jenne and Martha, who would stay the night at the hotel and go with the ladies to Sylvia’s early Saturday to get dressed, coiffed and made-up.  When Mickey dropped her off, he collected Korsarion, Lysarion and the Magestare, who would all be housed in the TARDIS until the ceremony.  Like Donna, Martha warned Mickey to keep an eye on Jack, and not let him get too carried away.  He smiled and assured her he’d take care of ‘ _Captain Cheesecake_ ’!  
  
  
The Doctor had told Donna to spare no expense on her ‘girls day’, and she intended to do just that. The five women spent the day taking advantage of everything the Dorchester Spa had to offer.  They were treated to full-body massages with aromatherapy, hot rock treatments, and herbal body rubs and wraps, as well as facials and scalp massages.  There were even special pregnancy treatments that Jenne was grateful to receive.    
  
  
Donna watched with delight as Maggie sat in awe as she was given a thorough manicure/pedicure.  The young girl was quite taken with the treatment, and she giggled with joy as she wiggled her toes that had been painted a delicate pearl colour.  Donna had a quiet word with the spa manager, who prepared a collection of nail lacquers and a complete tool kit, and had it sent up to her room.  She had already given each of the women a pair of blue star sapphire earrings as a small token of her love and gratitude for being with her on the most important day of her life.  But just couldn’t resist Maggie’s abounding enthusiasm for the new experience.  
  
  
After staying at the spa until very late in the afternoon, the women returned to Donna’s suite, where a grand buffet awaited them.  They all ate, and laughed, and talked well into the evening. Between the sumptuous food and the thoroughly relaxing activities at the spa, everyone was more than ready to retire to their beds.  The next day would start early and promised to be exciting and just a little bit stressful.  Martha took the third of the bedrooms, and Jenne joined Maggie and Kyla.  Donna was sure she would toss and turn all night with anticipation and worry, but as soon as her head hit the pillow, she went out like a light.  
  
  
While the ladies were being pampered and fussed over, the gentlemen were having their own pre-wedding celebration on the TARDIS.  Jack had been conversing (the Doctor referred to it as  _conspiring_ ) with the ship to help him provide a fun afternoon and evening.  He had persuaded her to supply him with a game room, complete with a pool table, chess and backgammon boards, and, most importantly, a card table.  He had also asked her to include a big screen TV and a full buffet and bar.  The Doctor drew the line at alcoholic beverages, saying Donna would skin them both alive if  _anyone_  showed up for the ceremony with a hangover.  Not that alcohol affected Time Lords, he informed Jack.  But that wasn’t the point.  Not at all.  Jack grinned at him, but agreed nonetheless.  
  
  
Magestare Otharet politely declined to participate in the festivities, asking the Doctor if there was a place of solitude where he could meditate and prepare for the ceremony.  The Doctor gladly took him to the Gallifrey room, the sight of which caused the elder cleric to blow his head in awe.  He had some vague memories of their former home, and he thanked the Doctor for sharing this gift with him.  He was told the TARDIS would light the path back to his room when he was ready, and would have a meal waiting for him.  
  
  
Mickey and Jack instructed the two Pendragorans on the fine art of billiards, and they both became quite adept.  “It’s a matter of geometry and trajectories,” Lysarion pointed out.  “We use something similar to this during manoeuvers with the dragons.  Simple really,” he sniffed, much to the Doctor’s amusement.    
  
  
While Mickey and Korsarion battled it out at the pool table, Lysarion challenged the Doctor to a game of chess.  Jack groaned.   _‘This is going to be the shortest game in history,’_  he mused, having been trounced soundly on several occasions by the Time Lord.  But Lysa proved to be a worthy opponent, crafty and capable to holding his own.  As they carefully evaluated each move, gradually Mickey and Korsa abandoned their own game and came over to watch the test of wills.  One would not think that watching a chess match would be all that exciting, but seeing the two men concentrate and scheme and strategize was fascinating.  The Doctor ultimately came out on top, but not before most of the pieces on either side had been removed.  Lysa stood up, bowed elegantly, conceding defeat to the better man.  The Doctor offered his hand, and they shook.  
  
  
“Well,” Jack said, clasping the two combatants on the shoulders.  “Well played, gentlemen.  But now, I think it’s time for some food and football!”  He grabbed the remote control and flipped on the TV.  The TARDIS had tuned into a West Ham match (in honour of Donna) and, as the Doctor brought in trays of sandwiches and cold salads from the galley, Jack explained the rudiments of the game (glossing over the offside rule, since Donna was the only one who understood it anyway).  It didn’t take long for them to catch on, and they cheered enthusiastically as West Ham thoroughly crushed Chelsea 4 – 0.  The dragonriders sat and discussed ways could adapt the sport for flying, and Jack asked the TARDIS to bring up a tape of a polo match, to give them ideas.  
  
  
Mickey wandered over to where the Doctor stood watching the proceedings and enjoying a large dish of banana pudding.  “Having a good time, Boss?” he asked, picking up a sandwich and biting into it.  
  
  
The Doctor shook his head.  “More than I thought I would, when Jack first proposed this idea.  I have to admit, it’s been fun.”  He put down the now empty bowl and turned to his former companion.  “Thank you, Mickey.  For being here.  I know I haven’t always treated you well.  In fact, the previous ‘me’ was downright rude.  But you’re a good man.  And a good friend.”  
  
  
“Aw, now don’t go getting all sentimental on me!”  
  
  
“I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything.”  He was interrupted before he could continue.  
  
  
“Hey, Doc.  Mickey!” Jack called out from across the room.  “Come on.  Texas Hold’em time!”  
  
  
Mickey laughed and the Doctor just shook his head.  “He’s incorrigible,” he laughed, but the two joined the others at the poker table.  
  
  
They were surprised to learn that the Pendragorans were familiar with a version of the card game.  They played for quite some time, using pretzel sticks, cashews and jelly babies for currency, moving from Texas Hold’em to 7 Card Draw to 5 Card Stud.  They even played a few hands of Baccarat, just for variety.  Surprisingly, the pots were evenly split among the five players by the end of the night.  The Doctor finally called it quits when Jack began to explain the rules of a game he learned from a starship captain that seemed to make no sense and had the silliest name he had ever heard.  He was convinced that Jack was making it up as he went.  
  
  
After showing his guests to their rooms and bidding them goodnight, the Doctor returned to the game room, to find that the TARDIS had moved all of the leftover food into the galley and returned the room to its former state as the media room.  He proceeded to pack up the leftovers and stow them away neatly in the refrigerator.  He carefully washed and put away the plates, glasses, bowls and platters, knowing that Donna would not appreciate coming home to a messy kitchen.  
  
  
Home.  The next time Donna came home to the TARDIS, it would be as his lawful, bonded wife.  The enormity of that idea stopped him in his tracks.  He sat abruptly at the table and stared at his hands, imagining his left with a gold band.  
  
  
That was how Jack found him an hour later, still staring, not moving.  He stood in the doorway for a moment, observing the Time Lord carefully.  It wasn’t often one got a glimpse of the man underneath the façade.  Jack walked in slowly and pulled out a chair.  “Mind if I join you?”  
  
  
The Doctor started, not having heard the him come in.  “Oh, ah, sure.”  
  
  
Jack looked at him closely and was a little concerned by what he saw in the Doctor’s eyes.  “So,” he began.  “What’s up, Doc?”  The Doctor narrowed his eyes and glared at him.  He grinned and said, “Sorry.  I’ve always wanted to say that!  But seriously.  What’s going on in that superior brain of yours?  You’re not having second thoughts about tomorrow, are you?”  
  
  
“What? No!  Of course not!” he replied quickly.  “Well, no, not really.”  He stopped and sighed.  “Well,” he drawled, “maybe just a little.”  
  
  
“You’re kidding, right?” Jack asked.  When the Doctor sighed again and shook his head, he questioned him further.  “How on Earth could you possibly have doubts?!  You are marrying the most amazing woman in the universe, who  _adores_  you and would do anything for you.  What is the problem?”  
  
  
The Doctor looked over at him, genuine sadness in his eyes.  “What if this is the wrong thing for her?  She wanted to be a wife and a mother.  She saw what that life could have been like in the Library.  I can’t give her that.  What if I am depriving her of the opportunity to have everything she ever wanted?”  He sighed heavily.  “And this life.  It’s dangerous and uncertain.  She’s human.  They’re so fragile.  What if I cause her to get hurt?  Or…” he couldn’t continue.  Closing his eyes, he said very softly, “What do I do when she dies, Jack?  How can I go on then?”  He held back a small sob.  
  
  
Jack reached over and took his hand.  “Take it from me, because I know.  You live.  You go on and you remember her every single minute of every day.  And you thank whatever deities you believe in that you had her in your life for however long you’re lucky enough to have had.  You become a better man because of her.”  
  
  
He stood up and opened up a cabinet, taking down two glasses and a bottle of 18-year-old Scotch.  “Now, I know you said no alcohol, but I think one drink is in order.”  He poured two fingers of the amber liquid into each glass, handed one to the Doctor, and raised his in a toast.  “To the men and women in our lives.  May we love, cherish and remember them always.”  They clinked glasses and drank it down in one gulp.  
  
  
Putting down his glass, Jack eyed the Doctor critically.  “And as for the first part of that argument, I wouldn’t worry too much about that.  This is a great big, wide universe.  Time Lord-Human reproduction wouldn’t be the strangest thing I’ve heard of.”  He gave him a wicked grin.  “Just imagine how much fun you’ll have practicing until you get it right!”  The Doctor blushed a deep pink and laughed self-consciously.  
  
  
“Come on, Jack.  It’s time we went to bed.  Oh, now stop it,” he growled, as Jack leered playfully at him.  “Donna will unman us both if we show up bleary-eyed at the church.”  He threw his arm around his best friend’s shoulder and they walked down the hall.  Stopping at Jack’s door, the Doctor said seriously, “Good night, Jack.  And thank you.”  
  
  
“My pleasure, Doc.”  
  
  
As the Time Lord entered his own room, he turned back and said, with a grin, “And Jack?  Don’t call me  _‘Doc’_!”  He could hear Jack’s laughter echo down the hall.


	18. Epilogue: Part IV - "With This Ring"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wedding, and more Actual Dancing!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My deepest thanks to bas_math_girl for her invaluable assistance with British wedding customs,. The Doctor would have been appalled at the things I proposed they do!

**_Saturday.  St. Mary’s Church.  Hayden Road.  Chiswick.  London.  England.  Earth.  The Solar System._**  
  
Saturday dawned, bright and beautiful if somewhat early.  The ladies were awakened at half six in the morning by an annoyingly cheerful concierge.  They showered and dressed, packed their essentials, and headed downstairs to the waiting limousine, which transported them to the Noble house in Chiswick.  There, the hair stylist and makeup artists descended upon them, preparing them for the ceremony.  
  
Over in the TARDIS, which had been moved to a lane nearby the church, the gentlemen were getting ready.  Korsarion, although he was not an official member of the bridal party, decided, because of the solemnity of the ceremony, that he, like Lysarion, would wear his formal-dress dragon rider uniform.  The two Pendragorans wore fitted leather trousers in a molten bronze colour, cream linen tunics with long full sleeves cuffed at the wrists, and above-the-knee polished black boots.  Over this was a sleeveless, belted dragon-hide waistcoat that flared at the hips, adorned on the front with beaten bronze plates to resemble dragon scales.  As a groomsman, Lysarion also had a sash of white brocade that was draped across his chest from shoulder to hip, in the manner of a Scottish highlander, and affixed at the left shoulder with a circular bronze brooch in the shape of two dragons facing each other, their tails entwined.  
  
Mickey and Jack were in dusky blue morning coats with moderate tails and black trousers with a blue satin stripe down the each the trouser leg.  They wore double-breasted waistcoats in the same blue brocade with silver threads as the women’s dresses, and dusky blue bow ties over crisp white shirts.  Each also had a sash draped and pinned.  Mickey’s was a match to Lysarion’s and was pinned to his shoulder with a round silver brooch engraved with Gallifreyan symbols.  When he asked, the Doctor explained that it was his name and the words  _‘Friend and Faithful Companion’_.  Mickey was touched and covered it by joking that it made him sound like  _‘the tin dog’_.  
  
Jack’s tuxedo was very similar to Mickey’s, with the exception of the sash and pin.  Jack’s sash was of the same blue brocade that adorned Kyla’s dress and piped in the same silver and white.  The pin was gold and the Gallifreyan symbols were set with small semi-precious stones.  Since the Doctor didn’t know Jack’s real name, it merely read  _“Face of Boe.  Brother to my Hearts’_.  Jack became very quiet.  He swallowed and blinked a few time before responding when the Doctor explained the symbols in private.  “You honour me, Doctor,” he stated.  “You’ve made me a better man, just by knowing you.”  
  
The Doctor grinned and slapped him on the back.  “He was always in there, Jack.  He just got lost a time or two.  Now, do your duty as my Best Man and help me with this blasted tie!”  Jack laughed and reached for the offending article.  
  
The Doctor was wearing a formal tailcoat in the same dusky blue as the other men, but his black trousers were faintly pinstriped in a matching blue.  His waistcoat was white brocade with blue and silver crystal-studded buttons, and his dress shirt had French cuffs fastened with cufflinks set with large blue star sapphires.  Donna had had them made when she ordered the ladies’ gifts, and had them sent over with the suits.  He found them in the pocket of his trousers when he got dressed, with a note from her that read  _‘This is why **you**  have pockets, Spaceman.  To carry the important stuff!  See you soon.  I love you.  Donna.’_ He felt tears of sheer joy filling his eyes and he wiped them away quickly.  It wouldn’t do for Jack to see him weepy before the ceremony.  
  
At the appointed time, the men made their way down the short walk to the church.  Magestare Otharet had gone ahead earlier after he had finished his morning meditations and was conferring congenially with Vicar Fielding.  The church was decorated simply but tastefully in blues and whites.  Donna had insisted on naturally blue flowers, not artificially coloured ones, which was a challenge for the florist, but one she enjoyed and, ultimately accomplished with great success.  There were two arrangements on pedestals at either end of the altar with hydrangeas, delphiniums, baby’s breath, cornflowers, and myrtle leaves.  The aisle ends of each pew were adorned with smaller arrangements of flowers.  Canterbury bells, bachelor buttons, English bluebells, and asters were affixed to the pews with white and blue chiffon streamers.  
  
The organist was playing soft music as the guests filled the church.  Mickey and Lysarion performed their duties as groomsmen with due diligence.  Sylvia’s  _‘Wednesday Girls’_  were highly impressed with the two handsome men who showed them to their seats.  Wilf’s old cronies drew themselves up with great dignity when they were escorted, although Minnie Hooper did take the opportunity to pat Lysa on the bum briefly.  He took it all in stride and even gave the old girl a wink before settling her into her seat.  Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart and his wife Doris sat on the Doctor’s side of the church, along with Colonel Mace and Marian Price of U.N.I.T.  Jack’s team from Torchwood Three were also there, Gwen Cooper and her husband Rhys Williams, Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato, and, of course, Ianto Jones.  
  
Lastly, Sylvia Noble made her way down the aisle on Lysa’s arm to her place in the second pew on the right.  She looked quite regal in her blue sheath dress and blue and silver brocade jacket.  She wore a velvet pillbox hat with delicate silver and blue feathers and adornments, and the pair of blue star sapphire earrings Donna had given her that morning.  But the most beautiful part of her ensemble was the radiant smile she had on her face and the peace she felt in her heart, knowing that her daughter was marrying to a man, well, alien, who loved her beyond measure.  
  
Jack and the Doctor waited in the left transept, with their backs to the front of the church.  When, with his superior hearing, the Doctor heard the slight creak of hinges, he turn to look toward the church doors.  
  
And the world stopped.  
  
He didn’t feel the hand of his Best Man touch his shoulder and barely heard him whisper in his ear.  “Breathe, Doctor,” Jack said, with a grin in his voice.  
  
Without moving, the Doctor replied, “I’m not sure I can.”  
  
Donna stood at the now open doors, exchanging a few words with her grandfather as they waited for the processional music to begin.  She wore a strapless white silk dress that flowed over her ample curves and pooled at her feet, with an over-dress of a soft, delicate white lace at the bodice that had tiny white pearl buttons to the waist, and lay off her shoulders, just skimming the top of the silk on her chest, its long lace sleeves coming to a point on the back of her hands.  Attached to the bodice was a split-front skirt of the sheerest white chiffon.  Both the bodice and skirt had thousands of clear and blue Swarovski crystals hand-sewn in random patterns that twinkled like stars with her slightest movement.  She wore her hair loose and flowing, the way the Doctor liked it the best, and a short veil of the same sheer chiffon sat demurely at the crown, affixed by a silver comb with the same crystals as her dress, shaped into a group of flowers.  The lavender pendant hung at the base of her throat and the matching bracelet was around her right wrist. She held a small bouquet of columbine, forget-me-nots, sweet peas, bluebells, and myrtle for luck.  
  
Straightening up as the opening strains of the Wedding March sounded from the organ, she looked straight at the Doctor and smiled, sending him a wave of mental joy that broke him out of his stunned state, and he grinned back, returning the thoughts.  She and Wilf, who was in a similar morning suit to Mickey’s with a narrow white silk sash pinned at the shoulder by a disk with the Seal of Rassilon, began their slow journey up the centre aisle.  They were followed by Kyla and then Maggie and Martha walking side-by-side.  
  
When they reached the two presiding clergy, Wilf took her right hand and placed it ceremoniously into the Doctor’s left.  Maggie and Martha slid into their places in the first right-side pew, opposite Mickey and Lysa in the left.  Kyla moved to Donna’s right.  Neither the Doctor nor Donna were aware of anything or anyone at that moment, apart from each other.  Vicar Fielding quietly cleared his throat to get their attention, and the two broke eye contact with a slight blush.  He then began the ceremony.  
  
“Dear friends and family, we are gathered here today to witness the …” he hesitated a moment to consult a slip of paper he had inserted into his prayer book.  “To witness the bonding of these two people by Earth law and Gallifreyan custom,” he continued cautiously, glancing sideways at Magestare Otharet, who nodded surreptitiously.  Relieved, the vicar went on.  “Who here gives consent to this bonding?” he asked.  
  
Wilf drew himself up to his full height.  “Her mother and I do,” he answered proudly.  Sylvia then joined him and unpinned the silk sash from his coat.  Taking it from her, he draped the cloth over the couple’s clasped hands.  Kissing Donna quickly on the cheek and touching the Doctor on the arm, he stepped back, and he and Sylvia went to their seats.   
  
The Magestare then asked, in a solemn voice, “Who stands up for these two?”   
  
Jack and Kyla took one step toward the couple and replied together, “We do.”  Jack then took one end of the silk and wrapped it around the Doctor’s left wrist, while Kyla did the same to Donna’s right, and taking her bouquet, she and Jack returned to their places.  
  
The Magestare continued.  “Consent has been given and the ceremony of bonding has begun with the  _qahar’lom_ , the symbolic fastening of the  _qahar_ , or marital band.  Before we can continue, there is another ritual that must be completed.  The true name of a Time Lord, is a very sacred and secret thing, to be known only to his bond-mate.  As the Doctor is also joining in a civil marriage of non-Gallifreyan origins, an alternate name must be chosen, by which he will be known.  Have you chosen such a name?” he turned and asked the Doctor.  
  
“Yes,” the Doctor replied.  “I have chosen this name, to honour both my Time Lord heritage and my Earthly connections.” He looked out over the assembled guests and smiled broadly.  “I am Dr. John Theta Smith-Noble,” he announced proudly.  Donna gave his hand a little squeeze.  
  
The Magestare pronounced, “This name has been registered with the appropriate Earth authorities and is recognized by the Shadow Proclamation.  From this day, as Dr. John Theta Smith-Noble shall he be known.”  
  
The ceremony continued.  Vicar Fielding read from his holy book a description by Paul of Tarsus of the qualities of the virtue of love.  Magestare Otharet then read from the Gallifreyan Poet Laureate Cariera’s treatise on time, fidelity and faithfulness.  They had decided to dispense with the hymn singing, since the ceremony had such diverse elements to it already.  The Magestare next instructed Kyla and Jack to untie the couple and place the  _qahar_  on the prie-dieu between them.  It would later be hung from the headboard of their marriage bed for one year, he explained to the assembly, to insure happiness and health.  
  
The vicar now stepped forward and took over the next portion of the ceremony.  He asked the Doctor and Donna if they now wish to exchange the vows they had written specifically for each other, and they responded affirmatively.  At his prompting, they turned to face each other, holding both hands firmly.  
  
The Doctor began, “I, John Theta, come to you, Donna Eileen, at this time and in this sacred place, in the presence of our family and friends, to be bonded to you as husband under Gallifreyan custom and Earth law, a bond which is unbreakable and for all time.  I offer you my body, my mind, my spirit and my soul.  I will love you, protect you and cherish you in this, and all future regenerations.  I make this vow willingly, freely and without reservation.”  He gazed at her with tears welling in his eyes.  
  
Donna smiled and blink to clear her own eyes of moisture.  “I, Donna Eileen, come to you, John Theta, at this time and in this sacred place, in the presence of our family and friends, to be bonded to you as wife under Earth custom and Gallifreyan law, and accept this bond as unbreakable and for all time.  I offer you my body, my mind, my spirit and my soul.  I will love you, support you and cherish you for as long as I live.  I make this vow willingly, freely and without reservation.”  
  
The Magestare stepped forward.  “The final ritual that completes the bonding is the exchange of names between the couple.  This is done telepathically, with the couple placing their fingertips on each other’s temples, and verbalizing the traditional request for admittance into one’s mind.”  
  
At his nod, the Doctor placed his fingers on Donna’s face and began to sing softly the ancient Gallifreyan the words of petition.  She took a deep breath, and, touching his face, sang back her response.  They stood in silence, eyes closed, for a few moments, and not a sound could be heard in the church.  Later, several people would swear they saw a golden glow passing between the two of them.  When they again opened their eyes, although nothing observable had taken place, everyone could tell that they had both been changed.  
  
The vicar continued.  “I have been told that, in times past on Gallifrey, couples would bear the brand-mark of their mates on the inner wrist of their right hand as a visible sign of their bonding.  Thankfully, we on Earth have developed a more civilised version of this, and John and Donna will now exchange rings as their sign of the bond that unites their hearts.  May I have the rings please?”  Jack made a show of searching for the rings, which made Donna giggle and the Doctor glare at him.  He handed them to the vicar with a smirk aimed at the Doctor.  
  
The rings were simple bands of woven gold, silver and bronze metals, designed to match the engagement ring that Donna wore.  The Doctor’s true name was engraved inside Donna’s ring and hers inside his.  He picked up the smaller of the two rings and held her left hand in his.  Gazing deeply into her eyes, he said, “Donna, this ring represents the commitment we make to each other this day.  Wear it always as you hold my hearts in yours.”  Slipping the ring on her left hand, he continued, “With this ring, I thee ( _‘biodamp’_  he thought to her as he said aloud) wed.”  He saw her smile and grinned back.  Taking the larger ring, Donna repeated the words he had said to her, including the mental addition, and slid the ring onto his finger.  
  
The vicar and the Magestare looked at one another and, with a nod from the Pendragoran clergyman, Vicar Fielding stepped forward and announced to the church full of people, “Friends and family, as all customs and rituals have been fulfilled, I now present to you, fully bonded and in eternal union, John and Donna Smith-Noble.”  Loud applause erupted and the newly-married couple stood still, both a little overwhelmed by it all.  The vicar leaned over and whispered, not very softly, “You can kiss her now, son.”  
  
And the Doctor did just that.  
  
It was as sweet and tender a kiss as the old church had seen, but there was an intensity and seriousness to it that was hard to define.  It was as if the kiss was the final rite required to complete and seal the bond.  With the touch of their lips, their minds sparked and linked in an inseparable connection.  Even after they broke apart, and while the vicar and the Magestare gave their respective blessings, their minds remained joined.    
  
They turned and practically skipped down the aisle hand in hand, Jack and Kyla following, arms linked, with Mickey and Martha, and Maggie and Lysarion not far behind.  They lingered on the steps of the church while the photographer snapped endless photos.  Finally, the Doctor encouraged everyone to proceed to the hall where the reception was to take place.  As people began to disburse, Sylvia came over to the couple and, with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, walked straight up to the Doctor.  “I guess I’m supposed to call you John now,” she said.  “You take care of my little girl, do you hear me, John?  And I expect to see you both on occasion.”  
  
He grabbed her in a big hug and said, “I promise.  To both things.”  
  
To his amazement, she hugged him back fiercely and kissed his cheek before stepping back.  “Come on, now.  We’ve got people waiting.”  She strode over to where Wilf stood, watching everything with amusement, and grabbed his arm.  They walked into the hall and took their places at the head table, where the rest of the wedding party was already were sitting.  The vicar had begged off, stating that he had to prepare for the next day’s service, but wished them well, and told them it had been the most memorable ceremony he had ever been a party to.  
  
As the Doctor and Donna entered the hall, they were greeted with applause, whistles and cheers, and they headed toward the dais, stopping at each table on the way to greet their friends and say a few words of welcome.  Their joy was contagious and the room was filled with good feelings and a sense of abiding happiness.  The Doctor formally thanked everyone for coming and sharing their special day.  Finally, he announced, “I don’t know about you all, but I am famished.  Getting married is hungry work!  Let the feasting begin!!”  Everyone laughed, and Sylvia motioned to the head waiter to begin serving.  
  
She had outdone herself.  The room decorations were tasteful and the meal sumptuous.  There was wine and champagne, and soft drinks and sparkling cider for the non-drinkers.  She had arranged for meat dishes as well as vegetarian offerings in case they were needed.  She had thought of every contingent, and Donna made a point to tell her how beautiful everything was, and how much it all added to the wonder of the day.  
  
Jack stood up toward the end of the meal and held his champagne glass in his hand.  Immediately all conversation ceased.  He looked down at the happy couple and then out over the room.  He grinned and said, “I met the Doctor, I mean  _John_ , a very long time ago, right here in London.  He and I have known each other for more years than either of us care to think about for too long.  We’ve travelled together, fought aliens and protected Earth from invaders, known and unknown.  We’ve even been arrested together.”  Laughter filled the room.  
  
The Doctor cringed as he said this.  Donna raised her eyebrows and said _‘You **will**  be telling me that story, Theta.’ _  
  
He knew better than to argue.   _‘Yes, dear,’_  he replied.  
  
“John has spent his entire long life working to keep others safe.  He has never asked for anything for himself.  People have come and gone in his life, but in the end, he’s always been alone.  He’s often said he doesn’t need anyone.”  Jack laughed.  “That was before he met Donna.  She set him straight on  _that_ idea right away.  She turned down his offer to travel with him too.  And believe me.   ** _That_**  didn’t happen very often!  Lucky for him, she decided she had made a mistake and went looking for him.  And found him.  They were supposed to just be best mates.”  
  
 _‘Just what all did you tell him??’_  
  
 _‘Nothing.  Really!  Honest!!’_ Donna squeezed his knee under the table just a little harder than affection warranted.   _‘Ow!’_  He grabbed her hand and held on tightly.  
  
“But best mates can often become something more significant.  And thank goodness, they both stopped being pig-headed about it and let it happen.”  He grinned at them both and held his glass higher.  “So, let’s all raise our glasses to John and Donna.  May their love last until the end of time.”  Amid the clinking of glasses and general merriment, Jack sat down and leaned over to the Doctor and whispered, “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”  
  
“Tell that to my right knee,” he responded, ignoring the quizzical look he got in return.  
  
With luncheon eaten and toasting finished, it was time for the ceremonial cutting of the wedding cake.  This had become a bit of a sore spot for the caterers.  Donna had told her mother of the Doctor’s particular (or was that peculiar?) fondness for bananas, and so, instead of the traditional fruitcake, which was the speciality of the resident baker, they arranged, with a great deal of friendly coercion (and a very large bonus) for a three-tiered banana cake with white fondant icing and blue and white marzipan flowers.  
  
Donna and the Doctor stepped up to the table where the cake was displayed.  Donna hadn’t told him about the change, so she let him make the first cut, knowing that his superior olfactory receptors would detect the tell-tale aroma.  Sliding the knife into the firm cake, he immediately raised his head and sniffed.  He looked at her and grinned from ear to ear.  “Really?” he asked, the knife still hovering over the partially cut slice.  She nodded and he proceeded to finish cutting an enormous piece of cake.  She manoeuvred it onto the plate and handed him a fork, taking one herself.  He speared a generous bite and, gently and carefully, placed in her mouth, and she did the same.  The look of sheer delight on his face was worth all the trouble.  
  
When the cake had been distributed and enjoyed the DJ invited Donna and John out for their first dance.  Taking her by the hand, the Doctor led her to the centre of the dance floor and they waited for the music to begin.  They were both startled when, instead of the song they had chosen (“We Have All The Time In The World” by Louis Armstrong), through the sound system came a delicate tinkling melody.  They both turned to the DJ, who pointed to the small table next to his equipment on which sat Kyla’s music box.  The Doctor glanced over at his oldest friend, who blew him a kiss and motioned for him to get on with it.  Pulling Donna to him, he put his arm around her waist, and she placed hers across his shoulder.  
  
They danced.  And as they swayed to the music, they spoke to each other through the strong mental link, crooning words of love and joy, oblivious to their surroundings, finding peace and comfort in each other’s mind.  And for the Doctor, it was especially poignant, because it meant, for him, that he would never be alone again.  
  
Kyla and Jack joined them a few minutes later when the music box ran down and the DJ began their  _other_ first dance music.  Soon Martha and Mickey, Korsarion and Jenne, and surprisingly, Lysarion and Maggie were together on the dance floor.  Donna was the first to come out of her mind-linked haze, and whispered something to the Doctor, who nodded.  They broke apart and headed back to the dais.  The Doctor put out his hand to Sylvia, while Donna threaded her arm though Wilf’s, and they returned to the dance floor.  Sylvia was a little stiff but graceful as she danced with the Doctor, while Donna and her grandfather laughed and moved easily together.  
  
Gradually, as the music changed to more lively songs, other guests began to fill up the empty spaces.  The Doctor danced with Kyla and Donna with Jack, who jokingly squeezed her a little too tightly, earning him an equally joking glare and mock growl.  Donna observed with amusement as one of her friends, a skinny blonde named Nerys, tried unsuccessfully to cut in between Maggie and Lysa.  He either didn’t understand what she was trying to do (which was highly doubtful, given the single-mindedness with which she approached him) or he was just very contented with his current partner, the more likely explanation.  Donna watched the two Pendragorans with interest.  She wasn’t the only one who was startled when Jack dragged a blushing Ianto Jones out onto the floor, but saw the obvious affection, and smiled at them when they waltzed by.  
  
As the afternoon waned, the party drew to a close.  The Doctor and Donna were more than a little anxious to return to the TARDIS.  The limousine would transport the Pendragorans to the Dorchester, where they will stay until Monday morning, after which they would join the couple on the TARDIS for the trip back to Pendragora.  Mickey and Martha had graciously offered to take Sylvia and Wilf home on their way back to London.  But before everyone disbursed, there was one more little Earth tradition that had to be carried out: the throwing of the bride’s bouquet.  Standing on the raised dais after surreptitiously surveying the scene,, Donna turned her back, and toss the bundle of flowers as far away from Nerys as she could.  As a result, the missile landed squarely in Maggie’s arms.  Hearing the familiar squeal, Donna laughed and exchanged a meaningful look with the Doctor.  
  
Finally, all of the goodbyes were said and, as the couple left the hall, they were showered with confetti, which made the Doctor laugh and ruffle his hair.  On the way out, Donna handed her mother the envelopes from the gift table.  In lieu of presents, guests had been asked to make donations to several Earth charities in the couple’s name.  (After all what  _does_  one get a 900 year old alien with a spaceship that can provide virtually anything he needs?)  She asked her to hold on to them until they returned from Pendragora.  Then she and the Doctor would personally write the thank-you notes.

 

 


	19. Epilogue, Part I – "Connubial Bliss"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Dancing of a Different Kind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N : I think this about covers it. Thank you all for coming with me on this journey.

When at last they were able to escape, the Doctor grabbed Donna’s hand and they ran the short way to where the TARDIS was parked.  Stopping suddenly, he bent slightly and, much to Donna’s dismay, he picked her up in his arms and began to walk toward the ship.  
  
“Put me down, you prawn!” she shouted.  “You’ll do yourself and injury!  Do you want to start this marriage with a wrenched back?!?”  
  
He laughed and replied, lifting her a little more comfortably, “Oh my dearest love.  You are as light as a feather.  And besides,” he declared with a smirk, “Time Lords have superior strength and agility.”  And, before she could make another caustic remark, he kissed her thoroughly.  At the snap of his fingers, the TARDIS doors opened and he stepped over the threshold.  “Welcome home, wife,” he whispered, as he walked through the open doors.  
  
Without taking her eyes off his face, she answered, “This is home, husband.”    
  
They stood in the control room for a few minutes, exchanging kisses and light touches.  Finally, Donna broke away and said, a little breathlessly, “I think I’ll go to my room and freshen up a bit.”  She looked at him and, with a slight blush, began to unfasten the tiny buttons on the lace bodice.  She asked tentatively, “Join me?”  
  
The Doctor swallowed as he watched her fingers slowly slip the pearls through their loops, until the overdress was completely open and she pulled her arms out of its sleeves, finally standing in just the silk.  He just stared for a moment and then, coming back to himself, nodded and said, quickly, “I’ll be along shortly.  Just have to put the Old Girl into the Vortex.”  He turned to the controls and began to throw levels, turn dials and flick switches with abandon.  He heard the swish of fabric, indicating that Donna had headed down the hallway toward her room, and he felt his hearts-beats thundering in his chest.  
  
Donna quickly entered her room and noticed right away that the TARDIS had made a few judicious changes.  If she had been at all worried that the ship would be upset or uncomfortable about their new relationship, her fears were immediately eased.  The room was larger than before to accommodate the addition of some of the Doctor’s belongings, most notably the wooden wardrobe which had been placed side-by-side to hers.  She realized that they were a matching pair, something that she had never noticed before.  There was also a small bookcase on one side that now held all the bits and bobs he had over his desk, mementos of his former selves.  
  
Donna unzipped the silk dress and draped both white garments over the settee, to be put away carefully later.  She kicked off her shoes and walked in to the en-suite, where she found another surprise waiting for her.  Like the bedroom, the en-suite was expanded to incorporate an oversized tub and a double cabinet.  She giggled at the sight of his shaving brush (she never knew he used soap in a mug) and his razor sitting next to her jar of face crème on one shelf, indications that they were now undeniably married.  
  
But it was the item she found at the vanity that caused a deep flush to suffuse her entire body.  Lying across the chair was a silk chemise in a dark, rich teal.  It had teal stretch lace covering her breasts and would fall just above her knees.  The TARDIS crooned to her and, at once, she realized that she could understand words, not just feelings, in the melodies.  The ship sang to her, “My Thief is happy now.  Happier than he has ever been.  And that is all due to you.  Love him, my darling Ginger Girl.  Care for him.”  
  
Donna felt tears forming.  Putting out her hand, she stroked the wall.  “I will, Idris.  Until the day I die, I will.”  
  
She stood there a long few moments, pulling herself together.  She stripped off her underthings and slowly drew the chemise over her head, delighting in the feel of the silk and lace as it caressed her body.  She retouched her makeup and played anxiously with her hair, until she heard the bedroom door opening and the sound of footsteps, telling her that the Doctor had finally arrived.  She quickly put on the cotton dressing gown she had on the back of the door, and took one last look in the mirror. Then, with a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and opened the en-suite door.  
  
The sight that greeted her took her breath away, and  ** _not_**  in a good way.  The Doctor stood in the centre of the room clad in a long, heavy gold brocade robe with wide sleeves, a huge standing collar made of some sort of metal, and a silver skull cap on his head that came to a point on his forehead.  Donna stopped and stared, not understanding what she was seeing.  “Theta?” she asked tentatively.  “What the hell is  _that_?”  
  
“This?” he replied seriously.  “Why, this is the ceremonial Gallifreyan marital night garment.  Didn’t I tell you about this?”  
  
Donna clutched the dressing gown closer to her.  “No, I think I would have remembered something like …  _that_!”  She looked at him, confused and concerned.  “Is there something  _I’m_  supposed to wear?” she inquired uncertainly, thinking about the lovely chemise Idris had given her.  
  
As she stood there, she noticed the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly.  Her eyes narrowing, she looked him straight in the eye and she clenched her teeth when she saw the twinkle there.  She drew in a deep breath and growled, “You bloody  **bastard**!!  You’re laughing at me!!”  And she whirled around and stormed back into the en-suite, slamming the door as she did, and sliding the door lock in place with a foreboding sound.  
  
She sat down on the toilet and put her face in her hands.   _‘What the hell was that all about?’_  she thought, trying to hold back the sob that threatened to erupt.  She heard the thud of something heavy hitting the floor, a muffled curse and then tentative steps coming toward the door.  
  
“Donna?” Donna heard him whisper through the door.  “Donna, I’m sorry.  Please open the door.”  
  
“Go away,” she barked.  She felt him nudged her mind and slammed down her shields.  “Oh, no you don’t!”  
  
He yelped at the force with which she repelled his mental touch.  He tried again.  “Donna, please.  I can explain.”  
  
“You can  _explain_?!  Making fun of me, you can  _explain_?!”  
  
He sighed and put his forehead against the door.  “I wasn’t making fun of you.  Really, I wasn’t.  More like making fun of  _me_!  It was just a stupid joke.  I’m sorry; I’m so, so sorry.  Please come out.”  
  
He sounded so sincere and so dismayed that she found herself feeling more concerned than angry.  She really didn’t want to be angry on her wedding night, so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.  Turning on the taps, she ran cold water over her wrists, a trick her mother used to calm her down as a child.  She dabbed at her tear-stained cheeks and retouched her eye makeup.  Turning back to the door, she put her hand on the knob and turned.  
  
The Doctor took the sound of the taps as a good sign and hastily gathered up the offending garments, shoving them under the bed.  He watched with trepidation as the en-suite door slowly opened and Donna emerged.  She had her dressing gown wrapped tightly around her and belted securely.  He could tell she had been crying and he hated himself for it.  They stood three metres apart and he didn’t move, giving her the control over the situation.  
  
She crossed her arms and stared at him, standing there in a dark blue t-shirt and striped pyjama bottoms his feet bare.  “Well?” she asked, noting how utterly miserable and utterly adorable he looked.  
  
He gave her a weak smile.  “Can we sit down?” he asked, motioning to the bed.  She nodded and went over.  Positioning herself at the foot of the bed, she turned to face him.  He sat far enough away so as not to crowd her, but close enough that he could touch her if she let him.  
  
He took a deep breath and began.  “Donna, love, I am so sorry.  After that beautiful day, I went and bolloxed it all up.  All over a stupid joke.  This isn’t the way I wanted our first tonight together to be.  Can we just forget what an idiot I am and start again?”  
  
Donna watched him as he spoke and the abject misery in his voice broke her heart.  She put her hand out and he gratefully took it.  “You prawn.  What were you thinking?  And what the hell was that you were wearing?”  
  
Relieved that she had forgiven him so readily, he moved a little closer to her.  “I found that in the Wardrobe Room.  I think my Fourth self wore it back on Gallifrey.”  
  
“But why you?  Why now?   _Especially_  why now?!” she asked.  
  
He lowered his eyes and stared at the floor.  “I was nervous,” he replied softly.  
  
“You?  Nervous?  About what?”  
  
“About us.  About…this!”  He gestured to indicate the whole room.  Seeing her confused look, he took her hands and said, “Donna, There are some things I have to explain about Time Lords.”  He took a deep breath.  “Long ago in our ancient past, Time Lords were placed under a curse of sterility.  How and why are not important.  All that matters is that, for countless generations, no one was capable of having children biologically.  Offspring were created using Looms, much like the progenation machine on Messaline.  Genetic material was taken from each parent and combined mechanically to form a new being.”  
  
He stopped and rubbed his neck, a sure sign to Donna that he was uncomfortable with the subject matter.  She stroked the back of his hand encouragingly.  He smiled at her, feeling the warmth of her finger on his skin.  “But,” he continued, “if a family were influential enough and had the requisite financial means, a couple could petition to be allowed to … erm .uh … undergo the necessary … ah … procedures to … um … procreate in the natural manner.”  
  
He looked sheepishly at her.  When she didn’t laugh or deride him, he went on a little more confidently.  “You see, my wife.  She decided that she wanted to do this, to bear our children in the ancient, natural way.  Did I tell you what a wonderful person she was?  Well, she was.  Remarkable, actually.  Anyway, it wasn’t an easy thing to accomplish.  First, we both had to go to the Citadel and make the formal petition in front of the whole Council, which was a little embarrassing.  Then, once we got the approval, there were the … uh … medical procedures, which were incredibly embarrassing and a little painful, to … erm … reactivate certain … um … functions that were basically undeveloped in all Time Lords and Ladies.  There were examinations and injections and all manner of prodding and poking, but once the … reactivation … was accomplished, we were able to … engage in the proper … activities … that would result in the physical creation of new life.  We did this three times, and she bore me three beautiful children.”  
  
He paused again, willing his face to return to its natural colour.  “So what I’m trying to tell you is,” he sighed, “well, I’ve only had sexual intercourse three times in my long, sad, pathetic life.  So, I’m nervous.  Very, very nervous.  Because, for all intents and purposes, I am practically a virgin.”  He looked at her fearfully, expecting either a slap or a howl of laughter.  
  
Donna sat very still on the edge of the bed.  She had listened to his story without saying a word and now she regarded him and absorbed what he was saying.  Picking up his hand, she kissed the back of it very gently and said quietly, “That’s good to know, Spaceman, because, funny thing, you see, I am.”  
  
He looked at her, confused.  “You are?  Are what?”  She just sat and waited for it to sink in.  His eyes suddenly got very wide.  “A virgin??” he asked incredulously.  “But how?”  She rolled her eyes at him.  “Well, yes, I mean, I know  _how_ , but, but, but,  ** _why_**??”  
  
She smiled a soft, self-deprecating smile.  “Well, I guess, technically, I’m not  _actually_  a virgin.  I dabbled once when I was sixteen with Jeremy Wilkinson in the backseat of his dad’s Asta.”  She grimaced at the memory.  “I didn’t like it.  It was uncomfortable and it  _hurt_.  So I made him stop.  He wasn’t happy about it, I can tell you that.  But when I offered to … _bring him to completion_  …” she blushed, “he was alright.  Didn’t call me again, but I wasn’t all that interested anyway.  After that, though, I started getting lots of dates.  I really thought I was popular.  Turned out the boys weren’t really interested in  _me_ , just my ... skill.  One day, I overheard some of the boys talking about  _‘chattin’ up that ginger tart with the talented mouth’_  and realised they meant me.”  
  
Donna stood up and continued to talk, randomly picking up and putting down items from her bureau.  “I was so ashamed and felt so dirty.  I stopped accepting dates for a long time.  When I got older, if a bloke I was seeing started pushing too hard in that direction, I ended it and moved on.  After a while, it didn’t seem all that important and I didn’t miss it.  That was one of the things that was so wonderful about Lance.  He didn’t seem to mind my reticence.”  She shrugged.  “Of course,  _he_ wanted to feed me to a giant space spider.  So what does that tell you?” she laughed derisively.  She turned back to the bureau and away from the Doctor, afraid of what he must think of her.  
  
The Doctor got up slowly and walked over to her.  Putting his hands on her shoulders, he gently turned her around to face him.  He stroked her hair and smiled sweetly at her.  “Love, I’m sorry.  I am so sorry you were treated that way.  You are worth so much more than that.  I understand if this is awkward.  I don't want us to be uncomfortable with each other.  So, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.  It’s your decision.  Just tell me what you want.”  
  
She regarded him for a moment, her heart filled with love for this wonderful, understanding man.  She stepped away shyly and untied the belt to her dressing gown, shrugging it off of her shoulders and onto the floor.  Standing before him in just her teal chemise, she bit her lower lip nervously.    
  
Distracted by seeing her gorgeous body revealed to him in that way for the first time, he was totally unprepared when her shields dropped with astounding speed and a wave of pure desire flooded over him.  The effect was immediate, almost painful, and very, very evident.  The intensity of his reaction shocked him.  He knew that the curse had been lifted ages ago, but hadn’t been at all certain whether, as in the past, medical intervention would be required to achieve the proper response.  He thought about the carefully crafted inoculations sitting unnecessary in a case in his room, and smiled to himself.  
  
He was pulled out of his own thoughts when he heard her loudly and clearly in his mind.   _‘I love you, Theta.  I trust you.  I want this.  So much.  I want **YOU**!!’_  
  
He knew his next move would be the most important one of his life, that he could scare her badly if he let his baser instincts drive his actions.  But he also knew his hold on his emotions and physical response was tenuous at best.  Taking a deep breath, he placed both hands on either side of her face and slowly drew her closer, until their lips touched.  He kept the kiss tender but firm, holding back his urgency, until she raised her arms and locked them around his neck, pressing her lace-covered breasts to his chest.  
  
He groaned at the sensation, and increased the pressure of his lips, one hand moving back to tangle in her hair, his other arm snaking around her waist, pulling her tightly to him.  Breaking the kiss finally, he led her over to the bed, laid her down, and settled himself next to her.  “Rassilon, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, nuzzling her neck as she sighed in pleasure at his touch.  
  
She, in turn, ran her hand over his still-clad chest, skimming her finger over one nipple, hearing him gasp.  She giggled.   _‘You like that, I take it.’_    
  
 _‘You have to ask?’_ he inquired with a smirk.  He leaned closer to her and she felt the evidence of his interest pressed firmly against her hip.  
  
 _‘I suppose not,’_  she chuckled in response.  
  
Propping himself up on his right forearm, he brushed the hair from her face.  “Wife,” he said aloud, “may I please make love to you now?”  
  
She smiled and trailed her fingers over his chest and continued downward, resting briefly on his hugely tented pyjama front, eliciting a groan of need.  Reaching around and cupping his bum firmly, she pulled him closer and breathed in his ear, “Husband, do you even have to ask?”  
  
  
  
 ** _Seven months, two weeks, and five days later....._**  
  
The Doctor was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on a breakfast tray, when he heard footsteps behind him.  Turning, he scowled when he saw Donna padding into the room in her pyjamas and dressing gown.  He put the tray down and helped her into a chair at the table.  “What are you doing up?” he asked sternly.  “I told you I was bringing you breakfast in bed this morning, wife!”  He loved calling her this, and she was surprised that it didn’t grate on her nerves, like she would have expected.  
  
She waved him away.  “Oh, stop fluttering, husband,” she grumbled.  “I’m perfectly capable of eating in the kitchen like a normal human being.”  She sniffed.  “Blimey, what’s that awful smell?”  
  
He furrowed his brow.  “Kippers,” he replied.  I chopped them up and put them in the scrambled eggs.”  
  
She shivered in disgust.  “Ugh!”  
  
“But you  _love_  kippers!”  
  
“Not this morning, I don’t.  Just tea and toast, please.”  He reluctantly put the offending plate on the farthest end of the counter and handed her a mug of tea and the toast rack.  She picked up a piece of dry toast, refusing his offer of her favourite plum jam they brought back from Pendragora.  She bit into it and chewed for a few seconds.  Looking up, she saw him staring at her.  “What?” she demanded.  
  
He shook his head and sighed.  “This is the third time this week you’ve not been interested in breakfast.  I’m a little concerned, is all.”  
  
She smiled, a little weakly, he noticed, and reached out for his hand.  “Stop being such a silly goose.  I’m fine.  Just a bit under the weather, that’s all.”  She took another tiny bite of toast and put the half-eaten slice back down on her plate.  “Maybe I picked up a space bug somewhere.  That outdoor bazaar on Plasticine Twelve, or whatever it was, was none too clean, if I recall.”  
  
The Doctor tried not to laugh.  “First of all, it was Plastera Six, a perfectly delightful planet.  You said as much yourself, when we went skinny dipping in the saltwater baths.”  He waggled his eyebrows, and she had the decency to blush at the memory.  “Secondly, it’s impossible for you to have picked up a  _‘space bug’_ , as you call it.  The vaccinations I gave you when you first joined me would have taken care of most known viruses, bacteria and allergens in the universe.  And what they didn’t catch, the TARDIS would have dealt with.”  
  
Donna threw up her hands and stated, “Well, then.  See?  There’s nothing to worry about.  I’m just tired.  Maybe I’ll just have a bit of a kip.”  She stood up a little too quickly, and the room spun, causing her to sway alarmingly.  
  
The Doctor jumped up and steadied her.  “That’s it,” he stated emphatically, taking her hand.  “There’s definitely something wrong.  Come with me.”  He put his arm around her waist and forcibly led her out of the kitchen.  
  
“Theta!  Stop it!  I’m fine.”  She tried to wriggle free, but he used his superior strength to hold her tightly.  During the short walk to the medical facilities, Donna realized that he was right; she felt decidedly off.  So she stopped struggling and allowed him to gently lay her on the exam table in the med-bay.  She mentally thanked Idris for warming up the usually cold vinyl.  
  
He kissed her briefly and swung the overhead scanner in place.  Flipping on the machine, he punched in a series of commands and then sat down next to her, holding her hand and sending soothing thoughts through their link.  After a few minutes, the scanner beeped and a monitor and keyboard slid out from the side of the machine.  He stood up to read the results.  
  
He leaned forward and squinted at the read-out.  Pulling out his glasses and putting them on, he punched few more keys, and gazed at the new result.  He stepped back, cocked his head to the side and screwed up his face in confusion.  “Can’t be,” he muttered.  
  
Donna watched his performance with growing concern.  “Theta?” she called out.  “What is it?  What have you found?”  
  
He turned to her with the most puzzled look on his face.  “What I’ve found is impossible.  Simply impossible!”  
  
“Tell me!   ** _What_**  is impossible?  Am I sick?”  She choked back tears.  “Am I dying?”  
  
Having turned back to the monitor, he hadn’t paid full attention to what she was asking.  Hearing the distress, the hint of tears, in her voice, he shook himself and smiled.  “No, no!  Nothing like that, my love.  Here.  Let me show you.”  He helped her sit up straighter and moved the monitor screen in a better position for her to  see.”  
  
“See that?” he pointed to a set of connected squiggles.  That’s your DNA.  Now watched what happens when I do this.”  He hit a few keys and other set of squiggles appeared alongside the first.  
  
“And what’s that?”  she asked, wondering where he was going with all this.  
  
“ _That_ , my darling wife, is  _my_  DNA.  Notice anything?”  
  
She peered at the screen and then turned back to him.  “They’re the same?”  
  
“Exactly!” he shouted, kissing her on the mouth.  “They are the same.  And they can’t be.  Well, they shouldn’t be.  Well, I suppose it's possible but how??”  
  
He began pacing back and forth in the centre of the med-bay, talking out loud to himself.  “Times Lords and humans are two different species.  Well, at least, that’s what we were always told.”  He rubbed his neck.  “Although there was that rumour, that ancient legend.  But it’s just a story.  A fairy tale told to scare Gallifreyan little boys.  But maybe … Hmmmm.”  
  
Donna grabbed his sleeve as he passed her and she stopped him.  “Theta.  Sit down and talk to me.  What is it?  What legend?”  
  
  
He took her hand and sat down next to her.  “When I was first starting my studies at the Academy, not long after I looked into the Untempered Schism and ran away …”  He saw her quizzical look.  “A story for another time.  I promise.”  He kissed her knuckles.  “Some of the older cadets liked to scare the younger boys with veiled threats and horror stories.  One of the most prevalent involved the punishment of Gallifreyans in the Dark Times.  People who angered the gods were exiled to primitive planets far away from Gallifrey to live among the natives and be corrupted by them.  One of the worst penalties was to be sent to Sol 3, which was thought to be the most primeval of all.”  
  
He grinned at her outraged  _‘Oi!’_.  “I said it was a horror story, a fairy tale.  There was very little truth to them.  But you know, I wonder.  Humans and Gallifreyans have very similar basic biology.  And the Ancients were rather ruthless.  It’s not much of a stretch to think they’d maroon some poor hapless people on Earth to fend for themselves.  That would explain the number of truly extraordinary humans I’ve known.  Like you, wife,” he smiled and kissed her temple.  
  
“So are you saying that I might be descended from ancient Gallifreyans?”  
  
“Yep,” he replied with tell-tale popped ‘p’ he used when he was especially proud of himself.  Suddenly, he jumped up and grabbed the monitor, typing furiously.  “YES!!” he shouted and grabbing Donna’s hands, he hauled her up and danced her around the room.  
  
 _‘THETA!!’_  she ‘shouted’ at him.   _‘What the bloody hell are you on about?!?’_  
  
“Can’t I dance with my wife if I feel like it?” he asked, grinning like a madman.  
  
 _‘Stop it this instant!’_  
  
His response was punctuated with kisses.  “Yes, my darling (kiss) beautiful (kiss) brilliant (kiss) wife!”  He led her back to the monitor and explained, “Do you see that right there?”  He pointed to one particular strand.  She nodded.  “That, my dearest love, is the Time Lord gene.  The one everyone thought did not exist in other Gallifreyans.  Kyla and the Pendragorans put paid to  _that_  idea!”  He saw she was still puzzled.  “Donna, Kyla told us that they discovered that that gene wasn’t non-existent, just dormant.  And that something about Pendragora reactivated the gene.  Well,  ** _that_** ,” he pointed to the monitor, “is the gene.  And it is active.”  His grin grew bigger, if that were even possible.  
  
Donna was having a hard time following exactly what he was trying to tell her.  “One more time, Spaceman.  Slowly.  For my tiny non-Time Lord brain.”  
  
He took a deep breath.  “Okay.  That is your DNA.  Your DNA is the same as my DNA, which means it has all the same gene strands as mine.  That particular gene strand is the same as the one Kyla and the Pendragorans discovered active in themselves.  Your DNA has the same active strand!”  He saw recognition dawning on her and her hands flew to cover her mouth.  He smiled.  “That’s right.  You must have inherited that gene from a very distant Gallifreyan ancestor.  And sometime during our stay on Pendragora, that gene became active.”  
  
Her eyes were brimming with tears, of joy or fear, she wasn’t sure which.  “So what does it all mean, Theta?  I know I’m not a Time Lady.  Only one heart, see?”  She took his hand and placed it on her chest.  
  
“No, you’re not a Time Lady, but awfully close!  You can’t regenerate like I can, but you  _will_  live a very, very, very long time.  So instead of forty or fifty years together, we’ll have hundreds, maybe thousands!!”  He kissed her passionately and they hugged each other tightly, neither caring about the tears that ran down their faces.  
  
After a while, Donna said to the Doctor as she rested her head on his chest, “Theta?”  
  
“Ummm?” was his distracted response, as he kissed her temple.  
  
“You said I’ve had this extra gene all my life.”  
  
“That is correct, my brilliant girl,” he replied, moving her ginger hair aside to nuzzle her neck.  
  
“And it got reactivated months ago, right?”  
  
“That’s right.”  
  
“So, why would having an extra gene make me nauseous and dizzy now?”  
  
“Oh, it wouldn’t,” he replied, running his tongue over the shell of her ear.  
  
“Then, why do I feel so wretched in the mornings?”  
  
He paused.  “Ah!” he said cautiously.  “That would be the baby.”  
  
Donna sat bolt upright.  “Baby?!” she shrieked.  “What baby?!?!”  
  
He stood up and moved over to the monitor and tapped a few keys.  “ _That_  baby,” he answered, pointing to the screen, where two tiny points flashed in counterpoint to each other.  He looked at her, tears springing again to his eyes.  “ ** _Our_**  baby.”  
  
Donna walked over and stared at the monitor, one finger tracing the little twinkling dots.  She put her other hand on her abdomen.  “I’m pregnant?” she asked in amazement.  The Doctor came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and covering her hand with his.  She leaned back into him.  “I’m going to be a Mum,” she said tears and laughter fighting for dominance.  
  
He buried his face in her hair and she almost didn’t hear when he whispered, brokenly, “I’m going to be a Dad again.”  
  
They stood there for some time, just watching the lights representing their child blink on and off in a delicate syncopation.  Suddenly Donna tensed.  Peering more closely at the monitor, she turned her head to look up at the Doctor.  “Theta,” she said with deadly calm.  “What was it you said the other day?  When we were talking about your eldest’s conception.”  He didn’t respond.  “How you all were so concerned that there was some defect because only one heart was beating.”  She waited.  
  
He didn’t move from his spot behind her but pulled back just a little.  “Um, well, we found out that the second heart didn’t begin to beat until the tenth week.”  
  
“And how many weeks along am I?” she asked with mock innocence.  
  
He gulped audibly.  “Six.”  
  
She leaned into him and pressed his hand onto her belly.  “So, since there are clearly two heartbeats, it stands to reason there are two babies.  Yeah?”  
  
“That would be the logical conclusion.”  He waited for the inevitable slap.  
  
She turned in his arms and gazed lovingly at him.  “Well, isn’t that just like you!” she laughed.  “You don’t do anything by halves, do you ,Time  Boy?  You have sex for the first time in centuries and, straight away, you get the girl up the duff with twins!  Oh, don’t look so smug, you plum!”  She kissed him thoroughly and with tender emotion.  
  
 _‘You’re not angry?’_  he asked, kissing her eyelids and temples.  
  
 _‘Angry?  Why would I be angry?’_  
  
 _‘I don’t know!  I’ve never done this before!’_  
  
 _‘Well, neither have I!’_  She took his hands in his.  “Theta, having and raising twins is going to be a big job, so you need to promise me something.”  
  
“Anything, my love.”  
  
“Firstly, that you’ll still love me when I’m enormous and puffy, and irrational and demanding because of hormones.”  
  
He grinned at the thought.  “Of course, I will.  I will rub your feet and your back, and brush your hair, and bring you ice cream at all hours of the day or night.”  
  
“Don’t think I won’t hold you to that, Spaceman.  The next thing is even more important.  I’m going to need your help once they’re born.”  
  
He hugged her to him.  “That goes without saying, Donna!  I want to be as involved in my children’s lives as I can.  And yes, that includes feedings at half two in the morning and changing nappies.  I didn’t do any of that when my children were babies.  I was too busy being a Time Lord.  Now, I just want to be a Dad.”  
  
She put her hand to his cheek.  “You will be wonderful father.  But now, go be a wonderful husband and see if you can salvage those eggs and kippers.  I’m bloody starving!”  
  
The Doctor’s laughter echoed down the hall as they danced back to the kitchen.  The TARDIS hummed to herself, thinking of crib designs and pastel coloured wallpaper.


End file.
